


Marking Time

by GreyWolf55



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWolf55/pseuds/GreyWolf55
Summary: Garrison's team get a new mission to south-west France that will mean splitting the team. You might want to read 'Something to Remember Her By' if you haven't already met Diesel and Hayter.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Marking Time**

Diesel paced the common room for probably the millionth time. He told himself it was just to keep fit, but in reality he had nothing else to do. Garrison and the rest were in Italy, doing what he didn't know. He wasn't part of their team so he didn't need to know.

It could have been worse, he supposed. He might have been forced into the stockade whilst the Lieutenant was away. As it was he'd been trusted to live in the house, although the Doves was out of bounds. What he'd learned in the past three weeks was how cushy they'd had it in France under Nicole's supervision. His heart gave that little skip again that it always did when he thought of the woman he'd been forced to leave behind on the Continent and he pushed the memory back into its box in his mind and locked it firmly away.

This was Garrison's fifth mission since Hayter had left and Diesel couldn't see how they kept up this rate of turnaround and still stayed sharp.

The distinctive sound of a truck growling up the road to the Mansion brought the Indian out of his reverie. They were back.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

It was a sorry crowd that trooped into the Mansion that night. December wasn't the best of times to be running missions in the open. Everyone was frozen from several hours huddled in the belly of a C-47 transport clad in wet clothes, and grumpy was an understatement. Chief was limping slightly having slipped on the wet deck of the fishing trawler that'd taken them to Sicily to pick up their flight. Actor was sporting a graze across his forehead from an encounter with a low-flying tree branch, but otherwise everyone was unhurt.

"Anyfink to eat?" Goniff was already heading for the refrigerator, prompting Garrison to shake his head in disbelief. The young Cockney had still been green around the gills ten minutes ago, vowing he would never eat again.

The others had gone straight to shower and change.

"There's a loaf in the cupboard and sergeant-major Fletcher managed to trade some Spam for a couple of jars of jam," called Diesel.

"No news?" Garrison knew his lodger was fretting at the inactivity. Hayter had thought it would take a month before he was reassigned and able to retrieve his Scout. Privately the Lieutenant expected it to be much longer. He knew how slowly the wheels in Washington could turn.

Diesel shook his head "Nah, nothing. Leg's good though." The medics had finally decided he could start running again and he was pushing himself as hard as he could. If Chief was a bit sore he might risk a rerun.

Fletcher stuck his head around the door. "D'you want dinner up here or in the mess tonight?" He didn't know why he bothered asking, the answer was always the same.

"Here of course." Casino was the first return, wearing dry trousers and a singlet. He was still towelling his hair dry. "What's on offer tonight?"

"Pigeon pie," replied Fletcher cheerfully, feeling quite proud of himself. Not only had he managed to secure the jam, he'd also negotiated some lard for pastry. The pigeons were courtesy of Diesel.

Casino looked impressed. Something had changed amongst the Army cooks. He didn't know what had caused it, but there had definitely been a change for the better.

Goniff re-emerged from the kitchen, a slab of bread heaped with some sort of indeterminate red jam held in one hand, a large mug of tea in the other. "Good on yer mate. Yer spoilin' us." He flopped down in Actor's chair, then jumped up again as he spotted the conman approaching.

Garrison decided it was time to get cleaned up himself. He grabbed Goniff's sandwich as he passed and took a large bite.

"Oi, get yer own mate," Goniff protested weakly, accepting the slightly smaller item back from his boss.

Garrison grinned and swiped an errant morsel of jam back into his mouth. It was nice to be able to let his guard down with his men, even if it was briefly.

Chief was the final one to return. Like Casino his hair was wet, but he, at least, was fully dressed. He made his way towards the fireplace, holding his hands out towards the flames and looking daggers at Actor. Diesel took a guess that the Indian had missed out on the hot water for his shower and wasn't happy.

Actor sank into his chair with a big sigh and started the process of lighting his pipe. He looked enquiringly at their 'lodger'. "Pigeon pie? Jam?"

Diesel gave a wry smile. "There's a new ATS lady in the kitchens that the sergeant major has taken quite a shine to. She likes the challenge of creative cooking.... all I did was make a few suggestions."

Actor gave a small snort. He was starting to realise that the Mohawk was possibly not as straightforward as their own Navajo. Yes, he was quiet, but under that quiet exterior was a very sharp and manipulative mind.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Two more damp and drizzly days passed by. Chief's ankle had recovered enough for him to accompany Garrison and Diesel around the perimeter track, but no-one felt like racing at the moment. Major Richards, the British Army Commando, was waiting for them on their return. "There's another one come in for you," he said, waving the briefing folder vaguely in the air.

Garrison looked at his wet hands then wiped them on his equally wet fatigues before accepting the notes. The cardboard proved a more effective towel than the trousers had. Actor had heard the British major's voice from his seat in the library and made his way into the hallway to investigate. He rescued the folder from the Lieutenant before it could deteriorate any further. Richards was about to protest, but thought better of it since he knew Garrison would be sharing the details with his men - it was part of the reason this was such a tight team - the trust that was present on both sides.

"Coffee Sir? I just need to get washed up." Garrison was getting cold now.

Richards looked at his watch. It was tempting, but he needed to get moving. "Next time, Lieutenant. I've a meeting to get to, but thought I'd save you a trip since I was passing the door. Good luck. See you when you get back."

Actor watched the man in the brown uniform make his way down the outside steps to rejoin his driver in the large black saloon car, then thoughtfully made his way into Garrison's office to wait. He was tempted to take a look at the folder's contents, but suppressed the inclination. He could wait.

Garrison reappeared fifteen minutes later, still chewing the last remnants of his breakfast. He was carrying two cups of coffee and handed one over to his second before seating himself behind the desk and flipping the folder open. Quickly he scanned the summary on the first page, the expression on his face gradually showing more concern as he read on.

Silently he extracted the page and passed it to Actor who read the typed notes carefully. "The targets are too far apart. We'd have to split the team." It wasn't exactly a 'no', rather a 'I don't like it'.

Garrison grimaced. It wasn't the first time and he knew it wouldn't be the last that the Army had expected miracles. Now he knew why Richards had fled before the dossier could be opened. "Get them in here. Let's break the bad news - and bring Diesel."

"He's got that look again," commented Goniff as soon as he saw the expression on the Warden's face.

"The one that says we're gonna get killed this time," supplied Casino, "Just in time for Christmas."

"Very funny," admonished Garrison, spreading the large map of France on his desk such that his men could see it.

"Last night in Toulouse the Gestapo rounded up all the Resistance people they could get their hands on. Our intelligence says they've captured most of the leaders of the United Resistance in the south-west of France and are holding them in Saint Michel prison. At the moment they're being interrogated and presumably tortured. We have to assume they'll be executed or sent to concentration camps in Germany. There's one man we're to try and extract - his name is François Verdier, known as Forain."

The Lieutenant pulled a black and white photograph from the folder that showed a pleasant looking man in his early forties, with thinning dark hair and slightly hooded eyes.

"Well that's easy mate, innit. Actor just strolls in like he usually does, cons the guards and off we go. Right?"

"No Goniff. Not this time." For once the Army man wasn't showing much tolerance for the irrepressible Cockney. "We're not dealing with the Wermacht here. It's Gestapo HQ and the Lt Col has it tied down tight."

"There's somethin' else, isn't there Warden?" Chief, as usual, had been watching Garrison and knew there was more to come.

"You're right. There's an aircraft factory outside of Toulouse they want us to take a look at whilst we're in the area. It's producing heavy bombers for the Luftwaffe."

"They want us to blow it up, Yeah? Piece of cake - a whole factory." Casino slapped the adjacent filing cabinet with the flat of his hand in frustration.

"Just assess the defences." Actor was as usual trying to be the voice of reason.

"And they want us to do both at the same time? That means splitting the team, Warden."

"I know and I don't like it any more than you do Chief. That's why we'll take Diesel too. We'll need all the help we can get."

The Mohawk had been surprised, but pleased, to be included in the briefing. He'd hoped it meant he would be needed this time. "How do we get out?" Diesel asked. Unused to having Hayter's man involved in their briefings, he'd been pretty much ignored by the others so far.

"That's the problem," acknowledged Garrison. "Even if we can get Forain out of the prison we're pretty much stuck with trekking over the high mountains to get to Spain in the middle of winter. The Gestapo have the beach at Perpignan locked tight so getting out by sea isn't an option anymore. Then there's a rail line that runs from Pau to Jaca over the Pyranees, but that's heavily guarded now. We might get through, but not with Forain."

"So we're dead."

"No Casino. We'll make it."

"So what's the plan?" Chief was resigned. He knew they'd be going however bad the odds were.

Garrison smiled. "This is what we'll do..."

****

**GG GG GG GG**

It took twenty four hours for the supplies to be requisitioned and transferred to the nearby USAAF base. A B-24 Liberator transport plane had been diverted and made available to the special operations group, which showed how much importance Allied command was placing on the mission.

Garrison still wasn't happy with the plan that he and Actor had hatched. With the local Resistance out of commission they would be on their own, responsible for either taking everything with them that they needed or 'liberating' things in Toulouse. The Lieutenant had finally decided to 'travel heavy'. It was a case of balancing the risk of their supplies being intercepted against being betrayed. That was the problem in south-west France, the danger wasn't just from the Germans - it was the French 'militia' - the police and regular citizens that were pro-Nazi, anti-Jew, and determined to betray their neighbours in return for favours.

"Do you think that's everything?" Actor was standing in a corner of one of the hanger, surrounded by piles of 'things' - guns, ammunition, clothes, food, money, papers... the list was endless.

Chief shrugged. He'd been the one fetching and carrying but hadn't paid too much attention to what was in the loads. Providing he had his knives, he was happy. He also knew that Actor wasn't really expecting an answer.

Garrison appeared from outside. "OK, let's get it all in the canisters and get some food. They've just said it's a 'go' for tonight."

****

**GG GG GG GG**

The flight was uneventful. Like the last time Diesel had travelled with Garrison's team they were sharing the plane, but this time only with storage boxes destined for Resistance groups in southern France. With light winds and a half-moon the parachute drop was also a good one. Although the landing area, to the east of Toulouse, had small copses of trees and a number of villages most was flat farmland and at this time of the year bare of crops. It meant they were slightly exposed but at least could see where the canisters had landed. As quickly as possible everything was rounded up and dragged into the shade of the nearest wooded area. If nothing else the exercise had warmed everyone up. The fuselage of the Liberator had, as usual, been freezing.

"You limping, Geronimo?" Casino had been on the back-end of the final torpedo-shaped box as it was carried to safety and had had a clear view of Chief's gait.

"Yeah, landed a bit heavy. It'll be fine in a minute." Chief was unwilling to admit just how much his ankle was hurting again. It obviously hadn't recovered as much as he thought it had and he knew it would slow him down if they had to make a run for it.

Garrison heard the exchange with some concern and made a quick change of plan. "Make yourselves comfortable, we won't be going anywhere for an hour or so." Fortunately it was a fairly warm night for December and in the cover of the trees he knew the men could cope with a night in the open.

Chief took the first watch as usual. Weapons and ammunition were extracted from the 'torpedoes' and the others made themselves as comfortable as they could using the parachutes as improvised sleeping bags. They would have preferred to get further away from the drop site in case they'd been spotted but it wasn't possible to carry all their supplies.

Garrison dozed fitfully, with half an ear open for signs of anyone approaching, but all was quiet. Eventually it was time to be moving. "Diesel, you come with me. We've a few miles to cover to meet our contact."

Diesel was surprised. He'd thought Chief would be the one to accompany the Lieutenant, but he'd missed the exchange between Casino and the Navajo so wasn't aware there was any problem. Carefully he climbed out of his cocoon and picked up his rifle.

"Just the pistol. Hide it in your pants under your jacket. We're two men looking for work remember, we wouldn't be armed. Have you got your knife?"

Diesel replaced the rifle on the ground. "Yeah. It's here."

Garrison heard the snick in the dark as Hayter's scout opened the knife and closed it again. Chief had been as good as his word and Diesel now carried the same well-balanced blade as the other Indian. He had the same arm sheath too, but would stick to stabbing for now. He had yet to perfect Chief's underarm throw technique and was as likely to hit someone with the hilt as with the tip.

The two moved out side-by-side, walking briskly. "You know where we're going?" Diesel could tell they were going west but that was all.

Garrison laughed. "Not really, but most of the roads lead into Toulouse. I'll know more once it gets light."

The Lieutenant was, as always, right. It was about 8 in the morning when the two were finally making their way up a long straight road on the outskirts of south-eastern Toulouse. Traffic was light, just a few people walking or on bicycles. None of them took any notice of the two men who were, they assumed, walking to work somewhere in the city.

"What're we looking for?" Diesel was starting to get edgy.

"A convent..." Garrison stopped as he suddenly spotted the tree-lined driveway at the end of which he could vaguely see a large cream-coloured two-story building topped with a red-tiled roof. Quickly he crossed the road to take a better look - and didn't spot the beige Citroën van that was turning into the driveway at speed until it was almost too late. At the last moment he threw himself to one side, landing heavily in the leaf-mould under one of the bushes. The van screeched to a halt and its female driver leapt out, concern written all over her face. She ran to help the man she'd almost knocked down, then froze as he started to pick himself up and brush the dirt from his clothes. "Hayter?" she queried tentatively.

Garrison stood up carefully and looked at the woman who'd spoken. She was slim and attractive, with dark shoulder-length wavy hair held back from her face with tortoiseshell combs and was wearing what looked like a pair of beige men's trousers and a dark-green ribbed sweater over a cream shirt. "Hayter?" He repeated her words with interest.

"I'm sss..sorry," she stuttered, in French, "I thought you were someone I knew. Are you hurt? I didn't expect anyone to be on the driveway at this time."

"I'm fine. It was my fault, I wasn't paying attention." Garrison's apology was automatic. He was more interested in the first word the young woman had uttered. "You thought you knew me?" The Lieutenant stopped speaking, his head cocked slightly to one side, encouraging the woman to say more, but now she was looking frightened and starting to back away from him. He tried to still his face and look as friendly as possible, but judging by the expression on the girl's face it wasn't working.

Across the street Diesel had at first stayed rooted to the spot as he watched Garrison almost wiped out by the van. He saw the driver jump out and run to help the man she'd almost killed. Her face was hidden from him at first, but he recognised the way she moved. It couldn't be... not here in Toulouse... Quickly, checking that there were no oncoming vehicles, he hurried to join Garrison. He could see that there was an initial exchange of words before the young woman began to back away, fear replacing the concern on her face.

Diesel took a few more steps forward, which brought him out of the shadows for the first time. "Rachelle?"

The expression of fear was replaced with one of incredulity as the woman looked first to Diesel, then to Garrison and back again, then she shouldered past the Lieutenant and running up to the Indian threw her arms about him in a bear hug. Slightly taken aback, Diesel lifted both arms away from his sides, then gently curled them around the woman who was now openly sobbing against his chest. He looked at Garrison for help. Whilst he wasn't exactly adverse to being hugged, he knew this scene on the convent driveway wasn't the most subtle way of their making contact with their local agent.

Rachelle herself was now recovering from her shock and with a small hiccup peeled herself away from Diesel's chest. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry, it was the shock. I think you'd better both get in the van. I'll take you to the Alms house, then you can tell me why you're here and how we can help."

She was a strong one, thought Garrison, impressed that the woman was already mostly recovered from her shock. Unlikely as it seemed he felt sure that this was the same mysterious 'Rachelle' that had featured in Hayter's interrogation transcript. How and why she was here in Toulouse he didn't know, but it didn't surprise him that he'd been mistaken for the Captain in the heat of the moment, the likeness between the two men had been commented on before. With a glance at Diesel he clambered into the van, positioning himself behind the front seats. He was joined by the Scout, who gave Rachelle a supportive squeeze on her shoulder before tucking himself away out of sight.

Rachelle restarted the Citroën and continued carefully down the drive to a small building tucked away to one side. Carefully she turned her vehicle and reversed it so that the rear door was lined up against that of the Alms house. From this position it wouldn't be possible to see if anyone left the bread van.

Rachelle climbed down and opening the pair of rear doors, encouraged both of her guests to transfer locations. Before climbing down herself she grabbed a handful of pastries and took them with her into the small building. Closing the door behind her she handed the food to both men. She knew they would be thirsty too, but she didn't want to alert the sisters to ask for drinks until she knew what was happening.

Rachelle leant back against the closed door and folded her arms defensively. She switched to English. It was tentative and quite heavily accented, but understandable nevertheless. "Diesel, how can I help you?"

The Indian's mouth curled up in a slight smile. It took him back to lunches at La Ferme where Rachelle had been determined to improve her English and he needed to learn French. He switched back to French, two could play at that game. His accent, he knew, had no hint of American but he also knew he, as yet, lacked vocabulary.

"Rachelle, this is Craig Garrison. He is a friend of Stuart Hayter. He too is US Army." Diesel wanted to say so much more, but his brain was frozen. The words wouldn't come.

The Lieutenant, with a small smile, took back control. For the benefit of the French girl he would use her native language and only translate for Diesel if things became more complex. "Rachelle, I was told to come here to speak to a nun called Marie-Jesus. Do you know her?" Garrison didn't know what relationship this trouser-clad woman had to the nuns of the convent, but she was clearly confident enough to know where to hide them.

Rachelle nodded. "I know who you mean." She thought for a moment, then made her decision. "Marie-Jesus is a code name. Anyone who needs help here will ask for her. What do you need?"

Garrison too had to put his trust in the woman who faced him. The person who thought she had run down someone she knew and cared for was gone, leaving in its place a seemingly confidant Resisteuse.

"I have four men hiding in the countryside outside of Toulouse. I need to get them into a safe house in the city. We also have some supplies with us that... would be awkward if they were found."

Rachelle nodded with understanding. Garrison had not told her the nature of his mission, but she knew from her time in Normandy the type of work that Hayter did, and could imagine that this would not be dissimilar. "Yes, that is something we can do. The Convent owns a boarding house in the city which before the war they used for refugees from Spain or people who had fallen on hard times. It is empty at the moment, but people would not be suspicious if it was to open its doors again. I will need to speak to the Mother Superior though to check she is happy." Rachelle looked at her watch. "Ten minutes and she will finish prayers. In the meantime I will send someone with drinks for you and empty the stores from my van." The Frenchwoman gave a small smile to Diesel, who had sat silently during the exchange, and slipped out of the door.

"Do you trust her?" asked Garrison as the door closed behind the retreating figure.

"With my life," replied Diesel, "and so did the Captain."

That told Garrison all he needed to know about the woman who had just departed.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Rachelle pulled the door to the Alms House closed behind her and took a deep breath. What had she got herself into, she wondered. Five months ago she had been a young country widow trying to make ends meet by working on a small local farm. Now she was in a city at the other end of the country, part Red Cross delivery driver and part helper to the Resistance. What had prompted her to ask Father Peter to find her a more meaningful role once Sapper and Magpie had been killed and Hayter and Diesel returned to the UK? Although she was questioning that decision now, she knew the answer. She had admired Nicole, the SOE agent she'd been working with for the last five months, and wanted to be more like her. What she hadn't realised until recently was how well trained the other woman had been, both by her pre-war life and her SOE bosses in London. All Rachelle had gained were driving lessons from Nicole, a little bit of secretive small arms practice courtesy of Sapper and a few lessons in how to fight dirty from the little Irishman, Magpie. It made her smile how she'd managed to persuade 'the boys' to help her in return for a few extra bits of food.

Calmer now, she crossed the courtyard to the main house. Prayers would just be ending and this would be a good time to intercept the Abbesse. She was right - the nun was just heading for her office, walking briskly, robes swishing on the tiled floor. "Mother, can I speak to you please?"

Mother Marie stopped and turned her head to look at the young woman in front of her. "Of course, child." Quietly she opened the office door and led the way into her sanctuary. Although she recognised the dark-haired girl as one of the convent's lay helpers, they had never spoken.

"You're Rachelle, I believe, our newest recruit? The one sent by Father Peter?" The nun was reminding herself as well as hoping to put the girl at her ease. "Is something wrong?" She hoped it was just a problem with the truck, although with all the arrests that had taken place just a few days before it could well be something much more serious.

"Two men arrived this morning, looking for help from Marie-Jesus," Rachelle began, "I didn't know what to do with them, so I've put them in the Alms House for now."

Evaders, downed airmen heading for Spain, thought the Abbesse. They would probably have been expecting to be met by members of the Resistance, but most of them were in jail and the rest had fled or gone into hiding. She was reluctant to become involved - so far she and her nuns had managed to tread a fine line. They were allowed by the Germans to distribute food and medicines to those in need, providing they didn't get involved with the escape routes. But if these men knew who to ask for, either someone had talked or these were not ordinary men on the run.

"I know one of them," added Rachelle. She had sensed that the Mother was about to refuse to provide help. "Father Peter knew him too. He would vouch for him, I'm sure."

The Abbesse was intrigued. "What do they want?"

"There are four others waiting in the countryside - all they want is somewhere to stay for a few days. They promise they will not bring us any trouble." Rachelle neglected to mention that she knew they were Special Operations people and that trouble was attracted to them like bees to a honeypot.

Mother Marie wasn't too sure either about the men not causing trouble, but decided to take a risk. "Very well. You can go and collect them and take them to the Pension Rambert. Is your van empty?"

Rachelle shook her head. "Not quite, I still have a few things to deliver."

"Is Danielle back in yet?" Danielle was the most experienced of the three delivery girls and was generally given the most challenging work, such as taking medicines to the internment camps, a job that always had her returning grim faced and silent.

"Yes, she wasn't far behind me."

"Please let her know I'd like her to finish your round." The Mother opened a small wooden cabinet and extracted two very large, very heavy iron keys and handed them to Rachelle. "You'll need these, and I'll send Fabienne to the house with some supplies. I assume the men will be thirsty?"

Rachelle nodded.

"You may take them the Alms wine. You know where it is?"

"Thank you Mother." Rachelle wasn't quite sure how to respond, so gave a sort of little curtsey and fled.

The Abbesse smiled. Despite her initial reluctance she was pleased she had decided it was time to take a more positive role. Fabienne she knew would enjoy an outing. Of all the novices, she was the one who found being in an essentially closed order the most difficult.

Despite the interview, Rachelle had been as good to her word and was back in less than twenty minutes. She carried with her a pitcher of liquid and two glasses that she offered to the two Americans. "It's watered wine, but don't worry, it's not strong. It's the traditional drink the sisters give to weary travellers."

Tentatively Garrison took a sip, then a larger mouthful. The drink was really just water with a minor taste of wine. It wouldn't affect his judgement, he thought.

Rachelle propped herself carefully against the wall. Once again she had her arms folded protectively against her chest. This time it was Diesel that she was looking at intensively. "Why are you with a new group? Has something happened to the Captain?" In the background, she could hear the chatter and other noises that meant her van was being cleared of its contents.

The Mohawk had relaxed whilst Rachelle had been absent and with that his ability to speak French had improved, although he was doing as Actor had suggested - keep it simple, use the present tense.

Diesel matched the Frenchwoman's look. "He's fine. He's in the USA, bargaining for our freedom. This group can use me, so I'm here. What about yourself? Why are you in Toulouse?"

"When you left and Nicole left I couldn't stay. Father Peter said they needed help down here, so I came."

Diesel remembered the Catholic priest. He'd always thought of the man as a rather fun figure. Short of stature, round of figure, bicycling energetically between his parishioners dispensing goodwill wherever he went. Suddenly he saw the man for what he was, the central cog in the wheel that had held the Normandy Resistance cell together.

"Where is Nicole now?" He knew now that Rachelle would not have been here in Toulouse if Nicole had stayed at La Ferme. Her SOE bosses must have reassigned her.

"Caen." There was a finality to Rachelle's words that echoed in his own heart. "Come on, let's go." She opened the door and headed for her van.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Back in the woods the remainder of Garrison's men waited patiently for the Warden's return. This was the worst part, sitting, not knowing if anyone had been captured. They'd broken out a few rations from the packs and sat nibbling on raisins and chocolate. No-one was, as yet, hungry enough to open the cans of meat.

Of the four, Actor was the most miserable. Left to his own devices he would never spend a night out of doors. What made it worse was that there was now a steady drizzle falling out of the leaden sky and the temperature had dropped markedly. A particularly large drip fell from one of the trees and landed on the end of his nose. "Merde."

"Hey, what's up Beautiful, rain ruining your mascara?" Casino wasn't any more enamoured of the conditions than Actor was, but having a chance to wind up the fastidious conman was always a bonus.

Actor thought about retaliating then changed his mind. It would probably end with a fight and, if it was bad enough being wet, it would have been even worse getting plastered with mud.

Chief just smiled.

"You don't think they've forgotten us, do ya?" Goniff, was getting cold now. He always felt it more than the others. However much he ate he never seemed able to gain any weight.

"Shhh." Chief had heard an engine note in the distance. It wasn't the first vehicle that had driven past that morning, but it paid to be prepared. The vehicle had stopped some distance away and turned off its engine. From what he could see it looked like some sort of light delivery van of the type butchers and bakers used. Three men got out of the cab and stood staring across the field in the direction of the woods. "Keep down," whispered Chief. The rain was coming down more heavily now, making it hard to see any detail. One of the three had detached themselves from the other two and was making his way across the stubble towards their hiding place.

"Walks like the Warden," muttered Chief, watching the slightly bow-legged gait of the man heading their way. He wiped a hand up through his hair to push it back off his face.

A few moments later everyone knew Chief had been correct.

"OK guys, transport's here. Get those parachutes hidden and the cannisters in the truck while the coast's clear. You ok to walk, Chief?" 

"Yeah, I'll make it." The Indian was already standing waiting for Casino to take his share of the load.

Quickly the five jogged back across the field, feeling very exposed, carrying the two storage 'torpedoes'. Diesel was waiting with the back doors open and it only took a moment to get everyone on board and be on their way again.

"Where the hell have you been? What took you so long? complained the safecracker. He addressed his next remark to Goniff. "Bet they were having a nice little breakfast in some posh café whilst we freeze our _palle_ off out here."

"Knock it off Casino and mind your language, we have a lady on board."

Rachelle briefly looked back over her shoulder to smile at the men - forcing Diesel, who was riding shotgun, to grab the steering wheel to keep the van from ploughing into a ditch. "Oops - sorry!" She quickly got control again and this time kept her eyes on the road.

"Gentlemen - meet Rachelle."

"I fort she was a bloke, what with them trousers an' all," whispered Goniff to Casino. So had the safecracker - until he'd spotted how decidedly unmasculine her upper body was when she'd turned to look at them all.

It didn't take long to reach the outskirts of the city. Garrison whispered quietly in Rachelle's ear and she pulled the vehicle over to the kerb.

"Now we walk."

Diesel had already jumped down from the cab and run back to open the rear doors. With a final word to Rachelle, Garrison had climbed down too. Reluctantly the other men joined him and watched as the delivery van trundled away.

"Warden, it's raining," complained Goniff.

"Goniff, I've noticed," replied the Lieutenant. "So the faster you get a move on the dryer you'll be. Split up everyone, either singly or in pairs. Just keep Diesel in sight - he knows where we're going. We can't risk being seen with the van. Don't worry, it'll be waiting for us at the safe house."

Gradually the group worked their way through the town, intermingling with the other wet and dispirited people making the same journey on foot. Finally Diesel came upon a pair of old oak doors, studded with iron that appeared to close off an alley or driveway. Set into the right-hand door was a smaller wicket gate. Carefully he turned the knob to find the door was unlocked and he was able to slip inside. Once there he waited until one-by-one everyone joined him. The Citroën was parked at the end of the alley, but of Rachelle there was no sign.

A large, ornate iron key was protruding from the lock on the wicket and Garrison quickly turned it to secure the door then pocketed the key. Another oak door, this time in the side-wall of the house to the right of the alley opened slowly. Chief immediately had his knife in his hand ready to strike, then realised it was their driver, Rachelle. Carefully he folded the weapon away again and replaced it in its sheath.

"You wanna' be careful lady. Don't want you gettin' hurt."

Rachelle took in the sight of the dark-haired young man who was so ready with his knife and despite herself smiled. Surprisingly, Chief smiled back and it transformed his face. My, he was good-looking, she thought, opening the door wider to encourage everyone in out of the rain. Somewhat nervously the group shuffled inside, alert for any danger. She was already aware that this group of men seemed much more on edge and somehow dangerous than Hayter's team had been. She would have to be careful until she got to know them better.

"Let me show you around. This building belongs to the Monastery of our Lady of Sorrows and before the war it was used as a refuge for those who had come to the city and fallen on hard times. There is a sitting room at the front on the first floor, a kitchen and scullery here on the ground floor and six bedrooms, two on the first floor and four on the second floor. There are also two bathrooms. Please, follow me." Rachelle led the way up the staircase to the first floor giving Casino, in particular, a good view of a her nicely rounded bottom and narrow waist. He gave a low groan. It had been a long time since he'd had any 'recreation' and this French lady was pushing all the right buttons for him.

She pushed open the bathroom door as they passed to reveal a large room containing somewhat archaic plumbing. There was a large bath but no shower and a gas geyser that provided hot water to either the washbasin or the bath.

The sitting room was slightly better, being equipped with eight arm chairs and a black wood dining room table with hard-backed chairs. A large bay window overlooked the street and gave excellent views in all directions.

A voice in the street calling "Allo-ooo, Rachelle?" distracted everyone from checking out things any further.

"Mr Garrison, may I have the key please?"

Garrison handed it over and watched whilst Rachelle opened the latch on the window and threw the key to whoever was waiting down below. It turned out to be a novice nun with bright blue eyes and blonde hair peeping from beneath her coif. In her arms was a large basket filled with various foodstuffs, which she dumped unceremoniously onto the dining room table. She took a quick glance at the six rather damp and dishevelled men, then ignored them and proceeded to kiss Rachelle soundly on both cheeks.

"Ugh - you smell like wet dog Rachelle... oh well, never mind. Introduce me to our new guests... it's so nice to have visitors again... I'm Fabienne...

She's irrepressible, a bit like Goniff, thought Actor, warming immediately to the bubbly little nun. He stepped forward and kissed her hand. "I am Actor, this is the Warden, Casino, Diesel, Chief and Goniff." Each man nodded or said 'Hello' in their usual ways. Fabienne turned a delicate shade of pink realising that Actor was still gently holding her fingers. She withdrew them and interlaced both hands across her stomach, finally trying to behave like the nun she was planning on becoming.

Rachelle carefully filed away the names in her memory. "We'll leave you to get settled. There are sheets and towels in the chests in each room. I'll come back and get the van this afternoon so you can let me know then if you need anything else." Grasping Fabienne by the elbow she escorted her gently downstairs. "You, you wicked girl, are supposed to be marrying Jesus Christ!"

Fabienne was unrepentant. "There is nothing in the Commandments to prohibit the appreciation of fine art."

"That my girl was lust... fine art be dammed!!"

Laughing, the two made their way out into the street and, arms linked, wandered back towards the Convent.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

"OK, get yourselves dried off and the van unpacked then we'll see what we can do today. Goniff, you can eat once that's done."

The little Cockney looked offended, but stopped rummaging in the supplies box. He knew when the Lieutenant was in one of his no nonsense moods and it looked like this was one of them. He suddenly spotted the mud stains on Garrisons clothes. "Here now, Diesel, what happened to the Lieutenant? You two weren't fightin' were you?"

Chief looked up in interest from his new home on the window-seat, curious as to what the other Indian would say.

Diesel laughed. "No, that was Rachelle, she tried to run him down. He jumped clear and ended up in the shrubbery."

"Very funny, Diesel." Garrison hated being the butt of his men's jokes, especially when it was his ego at stake.

"When we left La Ferme in the middle of November she couldn't even drive. It's not surprising if she makes the odd mistake." Diesel was still smiling at the thought of the Warden's acrobatic leap to safety. He didn't mention that she'd called the Lieutenant 'Hayter' and whether that might have any repercussions later. Still chuckling he followed Chief downstairs to start unloading the van.


	2. Chapter 2

Dry clothes and full stomachs pretty much restored everyone's equilibrium. Pushing the remnants of lunch to one side, Garrison dragged out his map of Toulouse and spread it on the table.

"This is where we're staying now and this is the St Michel prison. Our plan is to get Actor in there as a doctor for the Red Cross checking up on the health of the people who were arrested a few days ago. Chief, Diesel, we're going to need a smart sedan with enough fuel to run around the city for a few days. I'll leave that with you. Actor, we need to find a Doctor Langer. Our information is that he's the resident physician for the jail and that whilst he's German, he's very much against the torturing of prisoners by the Gestapo. I think he's our best bet to get a look inside."

"Casino, you're with me. We're going out in uniform. Diesel and Chief you're fine as you are."

"Looks like I get the afternoon off then," said Goniff, flopping into an armchair and closing his eyes.

"Washing-up."

"Warden," the little thief complained. But he knew he'd have to do it.

"Ready?" Chief was already moving towards the stairway, his heavy woollen coat slung over his shoulder, it's tab hooked through his left index finger. Fortunately it had pretty much stopped raining.

Diesel picked up his coat as well and made sure his knives were tucked out of sight before following Chief. The other man was still limping but it didn't seem to be bothering him too much.

"Got your papers?" That was the Warden from his room.

A chorus of "Yeah" came back from the stairwell, making him smile.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Both men took deep breaths of what should have been clean air, but was actually rather thick with smoke from the chimneys of the nearby houses. It was still better than being indoors.

"Where do you reckon we should try?" Chief didn't have a feel for the city as yet. He would normally just wander around for a while getting to know somewhere and what his escape routes were.

Diesel tended to gravitate to the railway station. It had always been a good hunting ground for him, both in the USA and now here in Europe, so that was what he suggested to Chief. It wouldn't do to take a car that was well known in the area where they were going to use it. Railway stations tended to be anonymous places.

Companionably they wandered slowly in the direction of the Canal du Midi and the rail hub on its east bank. They didn't seem to be attracting undue attention, but were careful not to speak in English when anyone was within hearing range.

Chief took the matchstick from between his lips and examined its chewed end thoughtfully. "How did you get to speak French? We've been going out with the Warden for nearly a year now and I ain't learned more'n a few words."

"Try breaking your leg and being abandoned by the rest of the guys for weeks..." Diesel laughed ironically.

Chief looked at him curiously.

"It's true," remonstrated Diesel. "Hayter went off on his mission leaving me at the safe house with our operative, Nicole, Rachelle who you've just met and the farmer and his wife, Monsieur et Madame Fournier, for company. Nicole insisted that all we spoke was French. I suppose I had a bit of Canadian French to start with - I was born up near the border and most people speak some, but you learn pretty quick like that. I've been working with Actor since we got back but it's not the same and he keeps trying to change my accent. I'm happy to speak like a Normandy farmer. I don't want to be some posh Parisian."

That made sense to Chief. If you're pretending to be a working man it pays to speak like one. It also explained Diesel's American accent when speaking English. Now he thought about it both Hayter and Diesel had more than a hint of Canadian in their speech.

There was a pause for a few moments whilst they worked their way past a group of people coming the other way, burdened by suitcases. A train must have come in.

Once the coast was clear, Diesel continued. "The problem was Rachelle - Nicole had been teaching her English and she wanted to practice. We all spent half our time running away from her." Diesel's mouth curled into a smile, remembering the old Rachelle. He wondered what she was becoming thanks to her new life here in Toulouse.

"You speak Kanyen'kéha?"

Diesel shook his head. "Just a couple of words. Ma would beat me if I spoke Indian. My grandaddy spoke it but I didn't want to learn. What about you? D'you speak Navajo?"

"Some," admitted Chief, "and a bit of Mexican Spanish. Enough to order a drink and find the bathrooms."

They had by now wandered almost to the railway station. It was teeming not just with German soldiers but also French militia. As they watched, an elderly couple were arrested and led away.

Keeping his head low so that it wasn't obvious he was speaking, Chief whispered to Diesel "They're searchin' everyone's luggage. What's that about?"

"Wait here, I'll see what I can find out." Nonchalantly Diesel wandered up to a man selling roasted chestnuts from a small brazier. Chief could see the two exchange a few words and some money change hands in return for a small bag of the nuts. Diesel wandered back, nibbling a nut. He offered the bag to Chief who took one somewhat suspiciously. Diesel showed him how to remove the skin and waited to see what the Navajo thought of it.

"It's good." He seemed surprised and reached for another nut.

Diesel swallowed his nut and began to peel a second. "Looking for black-market goods mostly, but that tall guy over there in the gendarme's uniform has a list of people they're still looking for after the arrests the other day. Seems like quite a few people got word of the purge and managed to get out in time. Probably time we moved on before anyone takes an interest in us."

An hour or so later and they were back at the station. The nut seller had gone and it was starting to get dark.

"We'll need to show our papers to get near the cars." Chief was uncertain, but they hadn't seen any other suitable vehicles during their wanderings and there were several unattended saloon cars scattered around the station.

Despite Chief's concerns the guards showed little interest as the two young men made their way into the parking area. A black Mercedes, slightly concealed behind a taller vehicle, was selected. It was locked, but a narrow piece of steel easily unclipped the door. Once inside it only took seconds to bypass the ignition key mechanism. Chief pushed the starter button and the car burst into life. No-one had noticed. Diesel sauntered back towards the guards, hoping to distract their attention whilst the Navajo slowly removed the car. It worked. Once clear of the station, Chief stopped the vehicle out of sight around a corner and waited quietly for Diesel to rejoin him.

"That went well, man." Chief had a hint of a smile on his face as he pulled away from the kerb and headed back towards the Pension. Diesel said nothing, but he was pleased too.

On arriving at the house Diesel jumped out to open the wicket and unlatch the bigger oak doors. The yard was empty, which meant Rachelle had been and gone. At least it left plenty of room for the new car. Chief drove past leaving Diesel to close and lock the doors, hiding the car from the world.


	3. Chapter 3

Actor had left the Pension a few minutes after the two Indians. He was dressed in his usual SS uniform, but this time with a Major's insignia. He didn't really need it, but it gave him more freedom to move through the town unimpeded. A trip to the Tabac for cigarettes also elicited information as to where Doctor Langer's surgery was located. The man was obviously well known in the Toulouse area. Actor hadn't expected to track the doctor down so easily. The challenge now was how to gain the confidence of the medical man.

Sometimes the best way was the simplest. Lighting one of his newly acquired Gauloises he strode purposefully across the city to the address he'd been given.

The house was a typical Toulousian property, with its cream walls and red tiled roof. No wonder it was called the 'pink city'.

The conman walked up to the front door and pulled the doorbell chain. He could vaguely hear the clang from within the building. After a short while the door was opened by a woman wearing a severe grey skirt and white blouse. She looked suspiciously at the officer in front of her, but opened the door wider to let him into the building.

Actor removed his hat and tucked it under his arm. "I am Major Hauptmann," he said politely, in German. "Is Doctor Langer at home? I have a private matter I would like to discuss with him."

"I'm sorry he's not here at the moment, but he should be returning soon. Would you like to wait here or come back later?" The woman's tone of voice told Actor that she would prefer him to leave. She was clearly nervous of the visitor which raised Actor's suspicions. He decided to wait and accepted the hard wooden chair in the hallway. He hoped the wait wouldn't be a long one - the chair was not only hard, it was uncomfortable and slightly too low for the tall man. It was difficult to look intimidating sat with your knees in the air. He pushed the offending legs out straight in front of him, blocking the corridor, but that wasn't an issue.

"May I get you something whilst you wait, Herr Major?"

"No thank you. I am quite content thank you."

The woman nodded and disappeared into an adjacent room. She left the door open so she could scan the corridor. Soon the sound of typing could be heard as she resumed work.

It was about thirty minutes later that the front door opened to reveal a middle-aged man with mid-brown hair, wearing a brown suit and overcoat. He had a medical bag in his hand which he dropped to the floor whilst he put his hat on the hat-stand and shrugged out of the coat. He must have seen the major sitting in his hallway, but had so far ignored him.

The typist scurried out of her office and avoiding Actor's outstretched legs had a quick whispered conversation with the new arrival.

"Major Hauptmann, please. This way." The doctor picked up his bag and led the way into the front room of the building. He closed the door behind them. "How may I help? My secretary said you had a private matter you wish to discuss." The doctor was curious. His visitor didn't look unwell. Neither was he classical SS in appearance with his dark hair and swarthy skin. Perhaps he had an issue with a young lady of his acquaintance? The man was certainly attractive enough to appeal to women.

Actor was doing his best to appear non-threatening. It was a different persona from the one he normally tried to project when masquerading as SS. Actor took a document from his pocket and handed it to the doctor. It was his identification papers - and it also showed him as a physician and part of the Red Cross movement.

Doctor Langer scanned the papers and raised an eyebrow. In a normal place at a normal time the Red Cross would have been a force for good, however during WW2 the German Red Cross organisation was an instrument of the Reich, participating in the persecution of the Jews and Gypsies rather than protecting them.

Actor was prepared. "Not everyone in the Red Cross agrees with the policies of some in Berlin. There are also many who have concerns over the activities of some of our Gestapo friends. I understand that you will not want to trust a man who visits you out of the blue as I have done today but I do not think my request will compromise you in any way. I understand you visit the prisoners in Saint Michel each week... I would simply like to accompany you on your next visit to observe the condition of the new inmates from the Resistance. I have been told that some of them are women and children." Actor let the sentence die away and waited quietly whilst the other man considered what he had been asked.

Langer thought hard. He was generally a good judge of character, and instinct told him that the man in front of him was not what he seemed. What did he really want? On the other hand the Major had not asked the doctor for anything over and above what he did on a day to day basis - he often took young students with him on his visits to the jail. Clearly the officer did not have the clearance to visit in his own right, or perhaps this was something he needed to keep from the Gestapo. Langer made his decision. "Very well, I will meet you outside the jail at 10am tomorrow."

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Casino and Garrison were the last to leave the Pension that morning. They had waited in the sitting room, watching the street below to see if anyone was showing an interest either in the house or in the other people who had left, but all had been quiet. Both were dressed as Wermacht Leutnants - they wanted to be able to move around the city without attracting too much attention, although Casino with his dark hair and air of permanent aggression would always draw the eye. Their route was in the opposite direction from that which Actor had taken. Like the conman they stopped to buy cigarettes but this time whilst they checked for anyone tailing them, rather than to solicit information.

Via a circuitous route they eventually strolled past the imposing red brick frontage of the Saint Michel prison. With its castellated towers and massive grey, studded doors the entrance looked both imposing and impregnable. The rest of the walls, built of cream stone interspersed with brick layers, might not be so high but they would still be impossible to climb.

"They won't be breaking out of there in a hurry," commented Casino quietly.

Garrison had to agree. "OK, lets go look at Gestapo HQ."

Number 2 Rue Maignac was about 15 minutes walk from the prison, initially through narrow streets lined with dilapidated houses with barred lower windows and balconies on the first floor. It was not somewhere to walk alone at night. Eventually the road opened out into a tree-lined avenue flanked with taller apartment blocks before eventually reaching an impressive three-storey villa surrounded by gardens and a low wall with a high hedge.

"They certainly live in style, babe. Bet they throw a few wild parties in that place."

"We've seen enough. Let's get back."

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Actor had been the first to return to the Pension. Despite his protestations Goniff had cleared away the debris from lunch and had then fallen asleep in one of the armchairs. So much for being on guard duty, thought Actor, when the little thief hadn't awakened on his return. Actor prodded the blond man's foot with a booted toe, making Goniff jump with surprise.

"You could give a man a 'eart-attack, creeping up on him like that."

"And you could be dead. I thought you were on guard."

Goniff did look a bit remorseful, but only slightly. "I only sat down for a minute. I must have dropped off. It weren't like we had much sleep last night and it was so peaceful like."

Actor humphed and went to change out of his uniform. Although he was slightly upset with the Cockney he had to grudgingly admit that he might have succumbed in the same way himself.

By the time Garrison and Casino returned Actor was in civilian dress and settled comfortably in the cleanest of the arm chairs. His pipe was at his side and he was absorbed in reading a local newspaper. It was still running articles on the Resistance round-up and the need for people to be good citizens and divulge the whereabouts of those still at large.

"Anything of interest?" enquired the conman, folding the newspaper carefully and looking at the Lieutenant.

Garrison shook his head. "The jail's beyond what we can do. If our man's in there, he's staying. Headquarters is a possibility, but we need to get inside and take a look. What about you? How was the doctor?"

"Helpful, but not trusting as you might imagine. However he has agreed to take me with him tomorrow. I am to meet him outside the prison in the morning."

Casino returned having shed his uniform with some relief. Even though they'd brought uniforms with them this time the boots still pinched if he had to wear them for any length of time. "Any sign of the Indians?"

"Not yet," replied Actor. "I believe they said they would wait until twilight before attempting the heist."

A noise outside drew Garrison to the window. "It's Rachelle, I guess she's come for the van. If she comes up stall her until I can get out of this uniform. I know she worked with Hayter so she knows what we do, but no point her seeing what she doesn't need to." He slipped off to his room to make the change.

Rachelle did stick her head around the door, but since Diesel wasn't there, didn't plan to stay beyond telling them that Fabienne would be round later with some supper. That little bit of news cheered everyone up immensely, especially Goniff who'd expected to be tagged for doing dinner that night.

She was half-way back down the stairs when Garrison emerged from his room and called her back. "Are you still in touch with any of the Resistance, people that the Gestapo didn't know about?"

Rachelle nodded. "Yes, what do you need?"

"Someone that can help us with getting a look around Gestapo HQ."

"That should be easy. I assume you want it thought you're French?"

It was Garrison's turn to nod.

"No problem. I'll get it arranged."

It was after dark when Chief and Diesel finally made it home with the new Mercedes. They looked pretty cheerful, so the Warden knew they'd had success. They'd barely had time to take their coats off when a cheery 'Bonjour' from the bottom of the stairs announced the return of Fabienne. "Like bloody Picadilly Station around here," commented Goniff cheerfully.

"Quiet," admonished the Lieutenant. "Speak French or shut up."

Goniff's smile vanished from his face. Yet again he'd forgotten they were in enemy territory. Deciding a tactical retreat might be his best option he went to his room. Casino and Chief decided to wait it out. Neither hated the sound of silence the way the little Cockney did.

The smell of stew preceded the nun up the stairs, making Casino's stomach growl with anticipation.

"I have brought someone to see you Monsieur Garrison." It sounded odd to hear the Lieutenant's name pronounced in the French way with three distinct syllables. Behind the nun was a young man, probably only about thirteen or fourteen years of age, sporting a shock of bright blond hair. From the similarity of their bone structure the Warden guessed he must be a relative of Fabienne's.

"This is Denis, my brother. If you do not mind, I think you will find what he has to say interesting."

Actor raised an eyebrow and looked at Garrison, who nodded.

"Hello Denis, I am Actor." He stood and held out his right hand.

Denis looked nervously at his sister, who nodded encouragingly, then briefly placed his small hand in the big man's grasp. Actor gestured for him to sit at the table then took another seat himself. Garrison remained standing but was propped nonchalantly against the wall. Chief had taken his usual place at the window seat.

"Rachelle says you want to see inside the villa on Rue Magnac?"

Actor nodded encouragingly.

"I work for the butcher, Monsieur Mercier, who supplies meat to the Gestapo on Rue Maignac... I will be delivering there the day after tomorrow. Someone could come with me to help carry the packages - I often get a friend to help so no-one would think it unusual."

"That would be perfect Denis," said Actor encouragingly. He felt the young man had more information for them.

It was Fabienne who spoke next though. "Monsieur Garrison, Rachelle says we should trust you, that you have come to help us here in Toulouse..." She looked hesitantly at Actor before continuing.

"Our father was one of the Resistance leaders here. He was executed by the Gestapo in July and our mother sent to Ravensbruck. Since then Denis and I have been doing what little we can to help the cause. With most of the leaders gone the organisation is broken apart, but there is one small cell still operating led by a man called Raymond, it is the one that Denis works with. Would you like them to know you are here?"

Actor glanced at Garrison, who gave the smallest of nods.

"That would be appreciated, thank you Mademoiselle Fabienne," confirmed the conman.

Denis was looking a little more confident now. "This morning the order was much bigger than normal... when this happens it usually means they will be having a big party. I have heard that there is a new Gestapo man arrived to take control of this area, and this will be a reception in his honour. There will be many guests, so it would be easy for more of you to see inside the house that night."

Glancing once again at his Lieutenant, Actor could see he found the idea of a more detailed inspection very appealing.

Fabienne smiled again at her brother then gave a small tip of her head towards the stairs. Denis smiled at her and fled. Fabienne waited a moment until the outer door slammed shut, then spoke again. "There is a little more that you should know - these parties usually involve women... the top floor of the building is often called _le lupanar_. There will be courtesans available for those who wish to use them, but many men will take their mistresses. If you decide you wish to attend, you will attract less attention should you take an escort with you."

"And where might we find a willing escort?" inquired the Warden, although he was already pretty sure he knew the answer.

"I would have offered my services had I not joined the Order, but as you can see I can no longer do that. However Rachelle is willing to take my place, should she be needed."

Garrison smiled. He could see the idea of the party appealing to the Normandy girl. She probably didn't get many opportunities to get dressed up. He wondered though if she appreciated how dangerous it might be for her.

"What's the dress code?" Garrison hadn't expected a reception for a high ranking official to be on the agenda, so dinner jackets hadn't been included in the kit they'd brought with them.

"From what I am told, dress uniforms are acceptable for the men and evening gowns or cocktail dresses for the ladies."

The Lieutenant knew that Fabienne was right. They would attract less attention if accompanied by a woman. "OK, you can tell Cinderella she's going to the ball. I assume she doesn't have anything suitable to wear?"

Fabienne shook her head. "No, but she said that if the answer was 'yes' could I give this to the big man." She pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her habit and handed it over to Actor, then picked up the stew pot she had abandoned at the top of the stairs and placed it on the table for the men to help themselves. "There will be bread for you in the morning at the boulangerie around the corner. Just ask for Pension Rambert. There is no need to pay - they will send the bill to the monastery. Do you need anything else? If not I will bring dinner again tomorrow about the same time."

A drink, thought Casino. He could murder a nice chilled American beer or two at the moment. Cold tap water just didn't cut it.

They heard the clang of the wicket gate as Fabienne went on her way.

Garrison must have heard Casino's thoughts. "There's a German bar down the street a way. Take Actor and see what you can bring back. I think we all deserve a drink."

"What's on the paper?" asked Chief as Actor went to get his coat.

"Her dress and shoe size and the address of a shop that she thinks might have something suitable," replied the conman in amusement.

"Looks like you're going shopping tonight," commented Diesel from his seat in the corner. 

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. Both Actor and Goniff were tired after spending a good part of the night acquiring a suitable outfit for the next night's party. Diesel had done the bread run on the grounds that he wasn't needed for anything else. Even Casino was quiet, but that was because he'd felt obliged to finish off the remaining beer and was paying the price.

"OK, gather round."

"He's goin' to draw one of his bleedin' maps in the dirt," commented Goniff. "Sorry Warden, there ain't none."

"Very funny Goniff." Garrison spread his map of the city out on the table for everyone to see. "Actor, you're going to the prison this morning. Hopefully you can find out who they're holding there and what's happened to them so far."

"Casino, Diesel, Chief I want you to drive out to the first of the airfields and see what you can find out. Looks like there're three of them, not the two we were told about back in London."

Where had that bit on information come from? thought Casino. So far as he knew the Warden hadn't been anywhere to find that out. Actor lifted the newspaper he'd been reading the previous afternoon and pointed to a small article. It was referring to disruption being caused by building works at a Toulouse-Francazal airfield, which wasn't either of the ones that had been mentioned in their briefing notes.

"The main airfield is here to the north-west, at Blagnac. It's the main operational base here in the south and will be well defended. Over to the south-east here is Toulouse-Montaudran. From what we understand it's a repair facility surrounded by several factories building components for Heinkel bombers. It's supposed to be lightly defended and it's the one that London has most interest in. The third one, as Actor says, is here at Francazal to the south of Blagnac. We don't know what its purpose is and what's going on there, but it's clear it's being developed. It should be possible to recce Blagnac and Francazal today then do Montaudran tomorrow."

Garrison paused to have a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee.

"Goniff, you're with me. We're going to have a little chat with Rachelle."

****

**GG GG GG GG**

He was too old for this, thought Actor as he trudged heavily towards the prison. He would have been excited by the 'con', had he not spent much of the night trying to find something suitable for Rachelle to wear to the reception. In the end, he'd settled on a dark red satin gown with a deep décolletage and a flared skirt that would emphasise her small waist. Goniff had liberated an understated ruby and diamond pendant on a long gold chain that would nestle between the woman's breasts, with matching pendant earrings. Pretty gold sandals completed the outfit. Actor hoped that she had appropriate underwear to complement the outfit. He neither had the time nor the inclination to shop for those. Goniff would be going back out again tonight to complete the outfits for the men. Whilst Actor, Garrison and Casino had uniforms they weren't the formal ones that would be needed.

With the prison in sight, Actor drew himself up to his full height and turned himself into his SS major persona, whilst deliberately ensuring that he didn't appear too intimidating. Doctor Langer was already waiting, pacing back and forth in front of the grey doors, even though Actor knew he was early.

"I apologise for keeping you waiting Herr Langer."

Langer looked relieved. His tension had been more about whether he would be meeting Gestapo or French militia. The fact that the major was here and looking tired gave him the confidence that this was not a setup. The two made their way into the prison, Actor presented his papers, was signed in and the inspection began.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

The black Mercedes made its way slowly out of Toulouse, across the Garonne river and headed north west towards Blagnac. The three occupants knew they were taking a risk using the car, but it was too far to walk. Finding a secluded spot in farmland beyond the airfield they concealed the vehicle as best they could and started walking. Even from the perimeter it was clear that the base was not only very well defended, with machine-gun emplacements and flak positions, but construction was in full progress at both ends of the site. There were also a lot of aircraft parked around on the grass.

"Are we supposed to know what they are or just count them?" As far as the safecracker was concerned they all looked pretty similar - two engines, wings, tails and dangerous.

"Just count them, I expect," supplied Diesel. "That one over there's got a different back-end from those over there. Looks like there's three different types."

"Quite a few look crocked," commented Chief. Even though he had the sharpest eyesight he was having to use the binoculars. "Seen enough?"

Everyone had. Following the same routine they checked out the smaller airfield to the south. It looked pretty deserted after Blagnac, although here again construction work was in full swing throughout the site. A few unattended bombers were parked adjacent to the grass runway. There didn't seem to be much in the way of machine gun posts or evidence of guard activity. Stealthily the three made their way back to the car and headed for home.

"Well it was a nice day out, but that's about it." Casino was relaxed in the front seat, finally having the cigarette he'd been denied all morning. "At least we didn't have to kill anyone."

Without the use of the car, which would've been too conspicuous anyway, the third team of Garrison and Goniff had headed for the convent on two elderly bicycles unearthed from one of the outbuildings at the back of the Pension. They'd not been used for sometime so had to be cleaned off and have their tyres pumped up. The mice had been at the saddles too, making for an uncomfortable ride.

"How come I always get the short straw, Warden?" whinged Goniff.

"Just lucky, I guess." Garrison was less concerned with his anatomy than working out how to strap the parcel he was carrying to the cross-bar. In the end he just slung the bag over his shoulders. It had been a while since he'd ridden a bicycle and he couldn't afford the loss of dignity were he to topple over whilst in sight of the little Cockney. Goniff had just jumped on as if he'd been riding a bicycle all his life - which he probably had - and charged off down the street. 

Arriving at the convent entrance, it was a much more circumspect Lieutenant that turned down the drive towards the Alms House. He need not have worried, all three delivery vans were lined up in the yard which meant that not only was Rachelle at home, she wasn't likely to run him down again. With no-one in sight, Garrison pressed the door bell on the front of the Alms House. He assumed it must link to somewhere in the main building since there'd been no-one in attendance the previous morning. It took some time, but eventually an elderly nun appeared. She looked irritated at having been disturbed and not impressed to see two young men with bicycles awaiting her. Garrison began to wish he'd just sounded the horn on one of the vans - that would've probably caught Rachelle's attention. He was about to start explaining himself when the woman he was thinking about came running round the corner.

Rachelle spoke briefly and quietly to the old nun, who nodded and shuffled back the way she'd come. "Garrison, Goniff, I thought I might see you this morning. I was keeping an eye out for you, but missed the bell. Sorry about that - Sister Juliette is a bit cantankerous as you saw. I'm afraid she doesn't approve of giving alms, especially to men. Let's go somewhere we can talk. You can leave the bicycles behind the vans, they'll be quite safe."

This time, rather than the Alms House, Rachelle led the two men to a large storage shed which was clearly being used as the food distribution centre. Whilst not full to overflowing it still held a considerable amount of stores. Tucked to one side was a table and three chairs. Rachelle took one and offered the other two to Garrison and Goniff, then took a packet of cigarettes from her pocket and offered them around. "The nuns won't let us smoke, which is why we sit up here on our breaks," she explained, breathing in deeply. "I imagine that since you're here, you'll be taking me to the reception?" The girl looked excited by the prospect.

Garrison still felt wary about the whole idea. It was one thing to gate-crash a Gestapo party with Actor or another trained con, quite another to do it with someone who was not only untrained but who was also as gung ho as this young woman seemed to be. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it." For a second the flighty exterior fell away giving the Lieutenant a brief glimpse of a very different personality, then it was gone.

"Fabienne said you would need an outfit. Actor picked these out for you. Hopefully they will fit." Garrison handed over the bag.

"Found you some luverly stones to go with it," offered Goniff, in English, wanting to make sure he got credit where credit was due.

Rachelle peeked inside the bag, just enough to see the red satin. She could see the colour was perfect for her skin. Carefully she hid her excitement, knowing instinctively that her vivaciousness had upset the young officer. "Will I be Actor's escort tomorrow?" It was what she expected from the stories Hayter's conman, Monaco, had told her at La Ferme.

"Not this time. You'll be with me. That will leave Actor free to circulate as he wishes." And perhaps visit the upstairs rooms, thought Garrison privately. "Can you come up to the Pension this evening? We can go through all the things you need to know then."

"I'll bring dinner," confirmed Rachelle.

"She hides it well, Warden," said Goniff as they made their way slowly back to the safehouse.

"What?"

"That she's scared stiff... was just the same with me cousin back home. She'd cover it up with pretending to be the life and soul of the party then you'd find her the next day collapsed like a barrage balloon sobbing her heart out."

"What happened to her?"

"Me cousin? Still in London last I heard. I oughter see if I can find her when I get a pass next, if the bombs 'aven't got 'er that is." It was unlike Goniff to get sombre, so the Lieutenant decided it was time to change the subject and perhaps prove he could cycle faster than the blond man.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Goniff wasn't the only one in a sombre mood when everyone reconvened in the Pension sitting room later that day. Actor had found his visit to the jail unsettling in the extreme. Saint Michel was an old prison with narrow walkways, small cells with almost no daylight and that indefinable smell of unwashed men, unemptied slop buckets and despair. The new inmates had been housed in some of the lowest and most unpleasant cells. Most of them had already been heavily tortured and were displaying clear evidence with extensive bruising and broken bones in hands and feet.

Two things of importance had come out of the prison visit. Firstly that Forain was currently among the people being held in the German sector of the jail, secondly that the Wermacht were currently refusing to let the Gestapo perform 'reinforced' interrogations within that part the prison, forcing the KDS to transport their prisoners to other premises. On site torture was taking place in the French sector. It meant there was a chance of Forain being transported back to Rue Magnac for further questioning, although Actor had not been able to find out when that might happen.

Sickened by what he'd seen, it had taken Actor some time before he felt ready to return to base.

Matters had livened up somewhat with the return of the reconnaissance group. Goniff, with Diesel for support, had been sent out to a local bookshop to 'liberate' a children's book for identifying aircraft which filled an entertaining hour as everyone tried to work out what they had seen.

"Like bleedin' train spottin'," complained Goniff, although he was having as much fun as everyone else working out if something was a Heinkel, a Dornier or a Junkers.

Rachelle arrived for her briefing in the middle of the hilarity, bringing with her the ingredients for that night's meal. Goniff was, as usual, the first to nose into her bag.

"Beans? That's what we get in K-rations." He was clearly disappointed.

"Cassoulet," corrected Rachelle, also extracting a container of cooked meats, a package containing sausages and some vegetables. "I'll just get this in the oven then I'll be back."

"It's still beans," grumbled Goniff. "You know what beans do to ya, don'cha."

"Then it's a good thing you have your own room, isn't it." Garrison was feeling more cheerful than he'd been earlier. They'd survived another day without anything going wrong and that was always good news.

"I believe the Toulouse cassoulet is exceptional - it contains confit duck as well as a very good local sausage," supplied Actor. 

"What's a confeed duck when its at home?"

"It is a way of preserving meat by cooking it in fat at a very low temperature. It is a great delicacy in this part of France."

Goniff looked slightly mollified. Chief and Diesel stayed silent. Casino had disappeared.

The reason the safecracker was nowhere to be seen was that he'd slipped quietly down the stairs to the kitchen whilst no-one was watching. He was stood propped against the kitchen door, just far enough away not to upset the woman inside but close enough that he could speak to her and admire her curves.

"You're not from round here, are you?" Casino tried his best to curb his New York accent - partly so she'd understand him and partly because he wanted her to like him.

"No, I am from a small town near Lisieux in Normandy."

"You got a boyfriend hereabouts?" Casino kicked himself as soon as he'd uttered the words, but small talk was Actor's game.

Rachelle smiled. She liked the dark-haired man. Yes, he looked tough, like one of the Chicago gangsters in the films she so liked to see before she came south, but she felt there was something softer hiding under the gruff exterior. "My husband died over a year ago. He cut his hand and caught le tétanos? I do not know how to say it in English."

"It's the same, tetanus," supplied Casino. "That's real bad. How long were you married?"

"Less than a year." Rachelle felt sad at the thought and knew it probably showed in her face, but realised at the same time that she didn't really miss her husband in the way she thought she should have. Had she really loved him? They had grown up together. To marry had been expected and if it hadn't been for the war she was sure she would never have looked for something else. No - even that wasn't true - why else did she go to the cinema each week to watch the glamorous ladies and handsome men.

She realised that her hands had stopped chopping vegetables whilst she reminisced, and quickly restarted. It took only minutes to finish and put the dish into the small oven. Quickly she rinsed and dried her hands, realising that the American was still standing in the doorway watching her. With a smile she pushed past him, realising as she did so the muscular strength of his arms.

Garrison was sitting at the table with Actor awaiting her return. He looked disapprovingly at the safecracker, but since Rachelle was showing no sign of distress he had to assume that Casino had done nothing to upset her.

"Let's go through this in my room. It'll be quieter there. Diesel, your turn for the drinks. You know where the money is." It wasn't noisy in the sitting room at the moment, but it would be easier to concentrate with just the three of them.

"A rich red such as a Malbec would be perfect..."

Chief smiled at Diesel. "You heard the man."

Diesel pulled a face. Which just made Chiefy smile all the more.


	4. Chapter 4

Day three dawned wet and windy as a front blew through the Haute Garonne.

Goniff had gone out early to help young Denis deliver the butcher's order to Rue Maignac. With luck it would give the team some information as to the layout of the working part of the Gestapo HQ.

"We're being watched." Chief, sat in his usual perch in the sitting room window, was the first to spot a man huddled into a corner of a doorway down the street.

It didn't surprise Garrison. Six men coming and going freely in the centre of the city had been bound to attract attention, even in a building that was known to operate as a boarding house.

"Want me to go check him out?"

"No Chief. We need to tough this one out for a few more hours. I don't think they'll be making any arrests until after the party tonight."

Goniff arrived back shortly afterwards, carrying a 'donation' of cured pork, courtesy of the butcher, for helping out with the delivery. As he stepped through the wicket gate he was stopped by a middle-aged man who whispered at him urgently, in French.

"I need to speak to Garrison. It is important."

Goniff understood most of what had been said, and since he really didn't have any option, let the man accompany him into the house and up the stairs. "Garrison," he called out, partly in warning and partly because it was one word he could guarantee wouldn't give him away as English if he pronounced it the same way as Fabienne did.

"I'm Garrison." Craig stepped forward to greet the newcomer. Chief had his knife in his hand and Casino a pistol hidden by a cushion.

"I am sorry to come unannounced like this. My name is Raymond and we have mutual friends here in the city." It was as close as the man could get to telling the Lieutenant he was Resistance. "We have just heard - a collaborator has been speaking to the Militia saying that there are two Jews staying in the Pension. The police will be coming to investigate in the morning."

Garrison nodded. With their uniforms and papers it seemed likely that he and Actor would not be arrested. Probably Casino could pass for Italian if he was in uniform, but the other three were more of a problem. Goniff, with his blond hair, looked Aryan but couldn't speak anything other than English. He'd probably be taken as an evading English flyer. Diesel and Chief with their dark hair and golden skins would be the ones being accused of being Jewish.

The Lieutenant realised he'd been careless and had now put the nuns at risk.

"Can you help with another safehouse?" The Warden hated splitting up his team but it was probably the only way at the moment. He also needed to get the guns and ammunition to safety pronto.

"Yes, we have somewhere we can hide them that is close by, if it is only for a short time." Raymond rattled off an address. "I will make sure the door is unlocked for you."

"Raymond, thank you for the warning. Will you be safe?"

"I think so. For the moment, but I had better go. If you need me Denis knows how to find me." Raymond pulled his hat further down to conceal his face and pulled up his coat collar before slipping away.

"They didn't follow him," confirmed Chief from the window.

"OK. Chief, Diesel, get your stuff and put it in the Mercedes then take the bicycles and head out towards the convent. Diesel - you remember that deserted building we passed on the way in the first morning?"

Diesel nodded in affirmation.

"You should be able to hide there for a while. Take pistols and plenty of ammo. You might need them. I'll pick you up in the car as soon as I can and bring you back into the city. Goniff, Casino, put anything you don't need for tonight into the Merc as well. We'll not be back here once we leave for Rue Magnac."

Garrison gave a wry smile. There was nothing that could be done to save the situation now except keep the two scouts out of sight.

"Right, one final run through the plans for tonight and tomorrow. Looks like we have a few changes to make. The airfield at Montaudran's going to have to wait."

****

**GG GG GG GG**

A short while later Chief and Diesel headed out on the two bone-shakers. If they were stopped they would do their best to convince their captors that they were simply two French brothers from the north seeking work in the aircraft factories. Meanwhile the others worked quickly to strip the house of their things. Once they left for the reception they wouldn't be coming back. Hopefully the nuns could persuade the Militia that they'd let the Pension in good faith to German officers.

Garrison made the first run in the car with Casino as driver. Both were in their SS uniforms and apparently the car attracted no attention as they drove slowly away as if heading for Rue Maignac. Once they'd ascertained there was no tail they headed back out of the city to retrieve Diesel and Chief. The new safehouse was a small basement under a book shop. It was dark and smelt of damp with more than a hint of mouse. There were no windows and the only illumination was from a single lightbulb, however it did have the benefit of a small toilet and washbasin, which was its one positive feature. Chief sighed with resignation. At least it was just for the one night.

With the car boot emptied of armaments and kit, the two SS men headed back out to the convent in search of Rachelle. They found her reloading one of the vans for a second delivery. She looked up in what was at first horror at the SS uniforms, which switched to mere surprise as she spotted who her latest visitors were. The other girls were looking equally worried and made themselves scarce as quickly as they could.

"Can you get away now? There's been a change of plan," asked Garrison quietly.

"Yes, I'm done here. What do I need?"

Casino was impressed by her calmness. He knew the Warden had doubts as to the girl's ability to carry off a 'con' with no training. The safecracker wasn't so sure.

"Just your outfit for tonight and your papers," replied Garrison. "We won't be going back to the Pension after the reception tonight. You'd better let the Abbesse know. Someone has informed on two of our men for being Jewish. At least she can be prepared."

"OK. I'll need to get my things from my flat. It's not far away. Do you want the van?"

"No, no need. We'll wait for you."

Rachelle scurried off to do as she was asked. Another flurry of wind and rain came through forcing the two men back into the car whilst they waited.

"At least it's the French police, not the Gestapo," surmised Casino, watching the rain lash against the windscreen.

"That's probably worse," replied Garrison. "From what Rachelle told us that first morning, more people have died at the hands of the French than from the Germans."

"How can you tell if someone's Jewish? It's not like they're born with a label."

"Partly from the census... And they'd be 'inspected'..."

Casino knew what the Lieutenant was referring to. "Chiefy'll love that."

"I don't think Diesel would be too hot on it either."

Rachelle's return put a stop to any further conversation. She jumped into the front seat alongside Casino. "I've told the Mother Marie. She wasn't surprised. Says this new SS man, Lt Col Stur that they're holding the reception for tonight has a reputation for hounding the Jews even more than his predecessor did. Everyone will be out to please him."

She glanced over to the storage shed where her two companions were now peering curiously around the door. "I told them I'd not been arrested - yet." Rachelle laughed. "Do you need fuel?"

"If you can get us some."

"There are cans inside each of the vans. Take what you need."

"Casino." A nod of the Lieutenant's head was all that was required.

"Thanks Warden. How come I get all the dirty jobs."

"'Cos you're just a 'common garbage can hood'," Garrison quipped, enjoying the look he got back from the safecracker in response to the well-worn joke.

The 'observer' outside the Pension watched with interest as the two SS men returned with a girl, wearing men's trousers, in tow. She was carrying a holdall and seemed to be comfortable with the two officers. What he had seen so far did not tie up with a house that was harbouring Jews or even Allied aircrew. True, the two young men that had left for work in the morning had not returned as yet, but surely the SS officers would not have shared rooms with Semites? Could the two young men have been visiting for more... personal... reasons? Homosexuality was frowned upon by the Fuhrer, so that would be worth further investigation...

Fortunately Garrison's team remained in ignorance of what was being thought about them and their potential proclivities.

After a brief lunch, Casino did a final run with the Mercedes to the safe house whilst Actor took a brief stroll to the Tabac for cigarettes and another newspaper. He chose to walk as close as possible to the man in the doorway. It appealed to his sense of humour to let the watcher know that he was being watched.

Goniff was still curious about Rachelle and why she was in Toulouse. Casino had told him about the dead husband and he knew from Diesel that she'd been part of the support team for Hayter's extended mission in Normandy, but this woman didn't match the way Diesel had described the flirty little dairy maid.

"Why'd you come all this way, luv? You could'a fought the Nazi's up North."

"I needed to start again. If I had stayed I would still be working on the farm or married to an older man that wanted me for his wife. I knew I could be more than that."

That made sense to Goniff. In some ways it wasn't that different from how he and the rest of Garrison's team felt. They were all being changed by the work they were doing in a way that couldn't have happened if they'd stayed on their home turf.

"Don't you get homesick?"

Rachelle shook her head. "No, not really. I miss Father Peter - he was the one who arranged for me to come here, and Nicole of course. She was teaching me such a lot... what I do miss is her camera. I used to borrow it when she wasn't looking."

Goniff was surprised by that. "What, you took snaps and that?"

Rachelle smiled. "Perhaps..." she couldn't articulate what she wanted to say in English and switched to French, hoping Goniff would understand. "I felt I needed to make a record of life as it was. People working the farm, living under occupation. It won't be the same ever again, whoever wins. I would like to do the same down here... some of the things we see when we're out delivering, like the camps, they need to be recorded for the future."

Rachelle hadn't heard Garrison approach or realise he was listening in. Quickly he'd translated what she'd said for Goniff's benefit but unfortunately it had broken the spell and shortly afterwards Rachelle moved away to absorb herself in Actor's discarded newspaper leaving Goniff to thoughtfully resume his game of solitaire.

The afternoon ticked slowly by until it was time for everyone to shower and change for the evening. Goniff had left first, dressed for 'work'. With the butcher's help, he'd managed to wangle a job helping out in the kitchens that would, with luck, give him the chance to check out the basement of the building. Rachelle was last to emerge from Diesel's old room, somewhat self-consciously wearing the red cocktail dress. Never in her life had she worn something like this and probably never would again.

"May I?" Actor approached her with a small box in his hands. Rachelle nodded, not knowing what was coming next. The conman proceeded to apply make-up from the box, subtly enhancing the planes of her face, then adjusting the combs in her hair that swept her curls back to reveal the ruby and diamond earrings.

Casino was speechless, but also for some reason angry. It would be yet another woman that ignored him once Actor or Garrison turned on the charm. He turned away so that the girl wouldn't see the emotion on his face.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Back in the safehouse, Chief and Diesel were also preparing for the night, but in their case they would be on watch outside. Neither really minded - glitzy receptions weren't really their thing, although perhaps a glass of champagne would have been nice. Goniff was only slightly better off than they were, but at least he could pick a few of the high class nibbles, whilst they'd had to make do with a cheese and ham baguette.

Casino, driving the Mercedes, pulled up at the kerb outside the Gestapo headquarters and opened the rear doors to let his passengers out before driving the car away to park it. Without the ignition key he couldn't let any of the valet's perform the job.

Inside the party was already heating up. Actor had already started networking, partly to check who was who, but also to make sure that there was no-one he'd met whilst posing as the Red Cross doctor, who would blow his cover. So far the coast was clear.

Garrison was also circulating, Rachelle on his arm, seemingly at ease in the foreign environment. A number of the men had brought their mistresses. For those that had not there were a number of good-looking 'escorts' available. A discrete word in an ear and a couple would disappear for while. In the rear room a number of gambling tables had been set up for those who preferred non-fleshly pursuits.

Casino, having parked the car and made his way inside, had initially played a few hands of poker, but withdrawn before the stakes got too high. He'd won a small amount but not enough for anyone to be upset with him. Using a visit to the men's room as an excuse he took the opportunity to check out a few of the ground floor offices. He hated doing this without Chief watching his back but tonight there was no option. A wall safe yielded quickly to his skilled fingers but contained nothing of real value and no papers. He left everything where it was. A desk drawer in the third office contained a dossier with lists that looked as though they might be interrogation schedules along with a sheaf of other official documents but his German wasn't good enough to decipher most of them, neither could he conceal much in his neatly fitted jacket. Reluctantly he left the papers where they were and returned to the party.

He made his way to Garrison's side and quietly reported what he'd found. Goniff slid alongside a moment later, bearing a tray of caviare-laden biscuits.

"Cells are all empty tonight. Don't want the screams disturbing the guests." The pickpocket moved quickly on.

"Here, you take Rachelle, I'm going back for that list."

Casino took a short breath of frustration. That was the Warden for you. Still, at least he'd left him the bird.

With Casino to hang onto Rachelle felt far more at ease than she had with Garrison. She didn't know why, but the Lieutenant made her nervous in a way that Hayter never had.

Suddenly there was the sound of gunfire. It sounded like a machine-gun and it was coming from the front of the building. Women were screaming and all hell broke loose. Casino looked around the room. Actor was heading towards him purposefully.

"I don't think it's anything to do with us. I think it's an assassination attempt. Where's the Warden?"

"Search me. In the offices looking for clues."

"Take Rachelle, see if you can find Goniff and get out the back. I'll go and look for him."

More gunfire, mostly pistol shots. Pieces of plaster from the ceiling rained down. That decided Casino. He grabbed Rachelle's hand and dragged her with him. "Where are we going?"

"Outa here."

"My flat, it's just around the corner, come on." Now she was dragging him, he realised.

"Why didn't you say sooner," together they pushed their way through the mass of people and out though the kitchens, expecting to see Goniff, but he was nowhere to be seen. Working out that the little Limey would be holed up somewhere safe Casino gave up looking and followed Rachelle to safety.

Actor meanwhile was looking for his boss. The third office on the left Casino had said. Gently he turned the door handle and opened it. Inside, a man in a major's uniform was holding the Lieutenant at gunpoint. With the noise coming from the outside he hadn't heard the conman's approach. He would never hear anything again as his neck was snapped in one swift, silent movement. The gun fired, but missed flesh and embedded itself in the wall inches from where Garrison's head had been a moment before.

He picked himself up off the floor and brushed non-existent dust from his knees. "Thanks, I owe you one."

"You are welcome, Lieutenant. Did you get what you came for?"

The Warden held up the papers in response. "Let's get out of here."

Calmly the pair moved the major's body to a place where it couldn't be seen from the door and made their escape. The car was still where Casino had left it. As the two walked up Chief and Diesel slipped out of the shadows to join them.

"What was that about?"

"I think it was an attempt on the lives of the top Gestapo brass. I imagine it failed?"

"Yeah, don't think they got further than the door. They're dead now at any rate."

"Where's Casino and Goniff?" Garrison realised he was missing two of his men.

"I told Casino to find Goniff and take Rachelle to safety," supplied Actor. "I assume that's what he did."

A small blond figure appeared at Garrison's elbow. "Never saw him, Mate. I got stuck down in the cells when the shooting started. Only just managed to get out. The place was swarming with Krauts all trying to hide." Goniff laughed. "Load of them with no trousers on too and their d..."

"Thank you Goniff. We can imagine the rest," admonished the Lieutenant. "Let's get back to the safe house. I'm sure they'll join us eventually."

"Lucky bugger," muttered Goniff. Only Chief and Diesel heard him. They reckoned he was right.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Casino and Rachelle made it to her flat without encountering any patrols, which was fortunate since it was well after curfew and neither had the passes that would have permitted them to be out. She closed the door behind them and locked it, then drew the blackout curtain before switching on a single table lamp. It was a tiny room containing a narrow single bed, a little table with one fold-up chair, a small arm chair and a two ringed gas stove perched on a chest of drawers. A curtain suspended from a piece of wire concealed what was probably a bathroom.

Rachelle flopped into the armchair with a groan and pulled off her shoes revealing a couple of large blisters. "'Ow do women... marchent... in these?" she asked, sticking to her heavily accented Franglais.

Casino had to agree. The one time he'd had to dress as a women and wear heels he'd nearly broken his ankle - and hers were twice as high. "Walk," he supplied, working out from her hand-gesture of two fingers walking which word she was looking for. "Dunno babe, beats me." With relief he undid the buttons on his tunic and sat on the bed, picking up Rachelle's feet and placing them on his lap. He began to massage them gently, taking care to avoid the blisters. "Better?"

A big smile gave him the answer he was looking for.

Rachelle looked thoughtful for a moment. "Why does Garrison frighten me and Hayter did not?"

"That's the Warden, babe. Don't sweat it." Casino realised he'd lost her. He tried again. "Forget it. The Warden's not Hayter. Hayter's not the Warden. Don't mix the two."

Rachelle nodded. She had understood most of it. Casino was right. The two men might look similar but underneath they were very different men.

"You OK, babe?" Rachelle realised she had stood and was now pacing the room.

"Yes, I'm fine." She laughed ironically. She'd just used what the men had told her was the Warden's favourite phrase.

"Come here." Casino scooted over on the bed and invited Rachelle to sit alongside him. With a slight snort of disgust at herself, she flopped down alongside him. The sagging springs dipped beneath their combined weight they ended up pinned together with her right shoulder tucked under his left armpit. The warmth of her body and her closeness took Casino's breath away but he didn't dare move. Tentatively he slid his free arm across her body to hold her and closed his fingertips against her arm with the faintest of pressure

Rachelle tucked her nose closer to his chest so that it was lying over his heart. She could feel the steady rhythm calming her and giving her strength. Casino kissed the top of her head. It was meant to be a brotherly gesture...

She felt his heart beat change and the safecracker start to move away, cursing himself that his body was betraying him. Rachelle checked the movement with her free hand. "Don't go." Somehow she twisted her body so that she could kiss the hollow between his collar-bone and his neck. "I think we both need each other tonight."


	5. Chapter 5

Daylight the next day found five men awake and uncomfortable in the basement room. With only thin pallets between themselves and the floor it had not made for restful sleep. A noise outside brought Chief to his feet, knife in hand. Garrison pulled the cord to switch on the single light bulb so that everyone could see what was happening.

A familiar voice called from outside. "Rise and shine, room service. And put it away Chief, I don't want a blade in my guts."

Chief smiled, but left the knife where it was. It paid to be careful.

The door swung open to reveal a smiling safecracker, who was indeed carrying coffee. Behind him was Rachelle, with a large bag of croissants. Casino was still wearing most of his uniform from the previous night. Rachelle was in a skirt and thin pullover, with a coat thrown over her shoulders.

"Where the hell have you been?" snapped Garrison.

Casino shrugged. "Not getting killed? D'you want this coffee or not?"

Garrison took the coffee. He also accepted the offered pastry with a little more grace. Precedent set, the other four dug in as well.

"Do you have my uniform? I need to go to work. I'm late as it is," asked Rachelle. Actor dug around in the pile of bags, extracted the one containing the girl's clothes and handed it over.

Rachelle grasped the bag, kissed Casino firmly on the mouth and made to leave. They had said their goodbyes earlier. Both knew it was unlikely they would meet again, both regretted that they could not have had more time together, but it was the nature of their jobs and the way of war.

"'Ang on a minute 'luv." Goniff hopped off the chair he'd been perched on and grabbed something that was hidden under his pallet. "Got a little sumfin' for ya." He thrust a sacking wrapped package into Rachelle's spare hand. "Wot you said yesterday, about needing a camera... found this last night. One o' them randy buggers from upstairs 'ad it on 'im. Will it do?"

Rachelle put down her holdall and unwrapped the package to reveal a top of the range 35mm Leica camera. It looked like it contained an unused film too. Speechless she hugged the little Cockney with all her might, then kissed him on the cheek. Casino looked daggers, but he had to admit his friend deserved that kiss.

Recriminations for Casino started as soon as Rachelle had gone.

"I take it you had a more comfortable night than we did?" commented Actor, guessing accurately just how the other man had spent it.

"Well you did tell me to make sure she was safe," replied Casino, still smirking.

"I didn't tell you to..."

"Knock it off guys." Garrison was in no mood for Actor's bickering. "Now you're here, we have a prison transport to intercept."

"Sorry to tell you, babe, but no we don't. The Resistance guy came round to Rachelle's this morning. That attack last night has altered everything. All prisoners will stay in the jail and be interrogated there. The Gestapo are a bit pissed that someone offed one of their officers last night too. I guess that was one of you lot?"

"I stopped him from killing the Warden," admitted Actor.

"They're out for our blood now and there'll be reprisals. The Resistance aren't very happy."

Garrison absorbed the news thoughtfully. Whilst he wouldn't put it past Casino to try and get the mission cancelled, on this occasion he was sure he was repeating the conversation accurately. It was interesting that the man had gone to Rachelle's rather than to the safe house, presumably for his own safety he didn't want to be seen near the basement flat, Garrison surmised.

"Chief, we need another car, quickly. Don't get caught if you can help it."

"I'm onto it."

Actor was looking thoughtful. "We'll never get Forain now. Was that list worth going back for?"

"Probably not. It was the schedule for the interrogation sessions, but Forain wasn't on the list anyway. They must have finished with him."

"Who do you think the assassins were? Another Resistance group?"

"That was what Raymond thought," interceded Casino. "He thinks they were from a communist cell out of Marseille. No one local."

Garrison checked his watch and saw they were coming up to a transmission window. "I'll see what London says. Get cleaned up and shave as best you can." The Lieutenant dug the radio out of the pile of equipment and made his way up into the shop above.

By the time Chief returned Garrison had his answer.

"They want us out."

"Warden, you've got that look on your face again." Goniff was the first to see the 'we've got a mission' look on the Lieutenant's face.

"Yeah, I don't think we're gonna like what's coming."

"We need to be in Italy in three days. There's an urgent job they want done and we're closest. Reconnaisance of the other airfield can wait."

"Going out via Spain will be too slow," surmised Actor. "Even if we can take the train over the mountains from Pau to Canfranc without getting stopped it will still take several days to drive down to Gibralter - and that's assuming that MI9 can get cars to Jaca pick us up. Walking isn't an option either, even if we can find guides it's too cold now. What about a boat?

Garrison shook his head. "Nothing nearby. Anyway, why walk if we can fly....?"

"Watcha got in mind, Warden?" Chief asked suspiciously.

Casino was a step ahead. "Oh no. Not that big airfield. The one that's swarmin' with Krauts." Casino shook his head in denial.

"No, the other one. The one you said wasn't heavily defended."

"We're going to steal a plane, right from under the German's noses. Then what?" Diesel had been quiet since Rachelle's visit. For some reason he hadn't been happy that she'd spent the night with Casino.

"Then we'll fly it to Sardinia," replied Garrison matter of factly.

"You ever flown a German bomber before?"

"No. I've flown C-47 and B-17. It can't be that different. It'll be fine."

"Yeah," replied Casino. He always had to have the last word.

Twenty minutes later and they were on their way. Travelling light with just personal essentials, guns and ammunition. Everything not needed had been left in the basement for the Resistance to use. Diesel was at the wheel of the new car, a rusty old Citroën. Both he, Casino and Goniff were dressed as workers. Chief was driving the big Mercedes, dressed as a Corporal with Actor and Garrison in the back, masquerading once again as the SS major and colonel. The Navajo had to drive slowly so the underpowered rust bucket could keep up.

The gate to the airfield was lightly guarded, just a couple of bored soldiers. Seeing the large black car approaching they quickly picked up their rifles and tried to look more efficient.

"Papers?"

"You do not need our papers," remonstrated the major, but he handed his documents over for inspection anyway. "We are here to review the progress of the building work. Where is the officer in charge?"

Soldier 1 pointed to a large building close to the control tower and waved at soldier 2 to open the gate and let the Mercedes through.

A flurry of sleety rain flashed across the airfield stinging the faces of the two guards.

Soldier 1 barely glanced at the three men in the Citroën that had trundled up behind the Mercedes. They looked like workmen. Two were smoking, the driver was waving identification papers and saying something unintelligible in French. He waved the car through and hurried back to the cover of the guard post.

In the Mercedes Garrison and Actor lowered the machine guns they'd had trained on the two guards. Stage one was complete. They were on the airfield.

Chief headed towards the building next to the control tower that had been pointed out by the soldiers. He would have preferred to park out of sight behind the buildings, but that wasn't possible if the guards were still watching them. Meanwhile the Citroën continued along the perimeter road towards the construction site until it could pull over, out of sight, behind an oil tank. A bomber was just coming in to land. It hit the runway hard and bounced, dipping a wingtip, before finally settling and coming to a halt.

"Think that one needs a bit of practice," commented Diesel. The plane was backtracking and looked to be heading for a piece of grass not too far away from his car. A fuel truck was now heading their way too.

"Do we move?"

"Nah," replied Casino. "They won't notice us."

He was right. Once the crew alighted there was a heated discussion going on, presumably related to the almost-disastrous landing. None of the men glanced towards the parked car as they hurried inside for their debriefing.

A few moments later a tap on the window heralded Chief's arrival, carrying kitbag and machine gun. He slipped into the remaining seat in the Citroën before passing on his message. "Warden says we'll take that one." He pointed at the recently vacated bomber, with its ladder still down. "He reckons he can get on board without being noticed. We go as soon as the fuel truck leaves."

A few minutes later, Garrison and Actor nonchalantly wandered across to the parked plane as if just being idly curious. Another plane was approaching to land. On the assumption that the control tower would be distracted they took the opportunity to enter the plane. There was no hue and cry. The fuel truck moved away to meet the new arrival, leaving first Casino and Diesel then Goniff and Chief to make the mad dash to the plane.

Even as the ladder was being retracted and the entry hatch secured Garrison had the engines started. For the other five it was a tight fit.

"Why didn't ya get a bigger one?" The plane Garrison had selected was a Junkers 88 - and that particular bomber was only a four seater. Goniff managed to squeeze alongside Actor in the Navigators seat, which was a sort of glass pod located beneath where the pilot sat. It also housed the forward facing machine gun. Casino and Chief were sharing the rear gunner's position, facing aft and directly behind the pilot and Diesel was sat on the floor alongside Garrison who occupied the pilot's seat. The plane had no duel controls or provision for a co-pilot. Guns and kit bags were thrust into any gaps remaining.

"Not a hope of using the machine guns, commented Chief. If they had to use the aft machine-gun it would take out either him or Casino.

"They're not loaded anyway," retorted the Warden. "Looks like this is a training site not an operational unit." It would explain why it was so lightly guarded. There was no time for pre-flight checks. He needed to get off the ground as fast as possible. He released the brakes and began taxiing to the grass strip.

The fact that a plane was moving that shouldn't have been had finally been noticed by the people in the control tower and adjacent building. A gun car had been dispatched from the far end of the airfield and was heading down the runway towards them. with the noise from the engines it wasn't possible to hear if anyone was actually shooting, although it looked like someone at the front of the car was now taking aim. Suddenly the noise of machine gun fire from the forward turret below them shook the plane. Bullets raked in an arc across the runway hitting the tarmac ahead of the rapidly closing vehicle. A second swathe was on target and this time one or more bullets hit the driver, killing him instantly. As the man fell, he hauled on the steering wheel, forcing the car into a tight left-hand turn and tipping it onto two wheels. As the speeding bomber lifted off, its undercarriage cleared the swerving vehicle and its remaining occupants by millimetres.

"I thought you said the guns weren't loaded, Warden?" shouted Casino from the back of the cockpit.

"Fortunately this one was," shouted back Actor. He'd managed to push Goniff out of the way just enough to operate the forward facing gun.

Clear of immediate danger from the airfield defences, Garrison banked the plane hard to port, bringing it round onto a south-easterly heading, then levelled out. "Next stop Elmas, Sardinia. Diesel, see if you can find the flight manual. Better find out what all these controls do."

"Beautiful," complained Casino. Chief assumed he was questioning Garrison's ability to fly the bomber rather than referring to Actor.

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Flying low to avoid radar and hoping that they wouldn't get hit by flak, Garrison followed the Aude river valley down to the lakes south of Narbonne. That was the easy part. The rest of the trip would be over water. All he could hope was that the aircraft compass was functioning correctly. Sardinia was a big island, but the Mediterranean was an even bigger sea and with the bad weather and low cloud base he couldn't fly as high as he would have liked. It was either that or fly above the cloud and risk missing the island entirely. He stayed low, which meant a rough flight.

Actor was probably getting the worst of it, as Goniff had already been sick several times. The oilskin bag that was in his kitbag for just such an emergency had kept things pretty enclosed, but was not scent proof. Mixed with the smell of aviation fuel and oil it was making everyone else slightly nauseous too.

Yet another turbulent lurch threw Chief on top of Casino for the multieth time. "Will you butt out Indian," complained the safecracker shoving him off his lap yet again. This time Chief slipped and ended up on his back, hitting his head on part of the fuselage. "You lousy...," he tried to retrieve his knife but fortunately that wrist was trapped beneath him.

"Knock it off you two or you can swap with Actor," admonished Garrison from up front. He didn't have spare strength to manage squabbling cons as well as a bucking bomber.

Diesel reached back and helped the other Indian sort himself out. There was a trickle of blood running down his forehead, but it didn't look as if the damage was serious. They'd been flying about an hour and a quarter by now and, with the strong tail wind they'd had so far, Garrison was expecting to see land ahead pretty soon.

Diesel looked out of the window yet again, seeing only white-topped grey waves below and grey skies above. Suddenly he picked out a grey shape in the sky that was more solid than the cloud.

"Looks like we've got company."

Concentrating on keeping the plane level, Garrison didn't have a hand to spare. "Diesel, drop the undercarriage, fast. It's that button there. Then the bomb doors." Simultaneously the Lieutenant throttled back on the engines dropping the airspeed enough so as not to damage the undercarriage and waggled the aircraft's wings.

The Mohawk did as he was asked and was rewarded by hearing a thunk as the wheels dropped into place. Then he waited, expecting at any time to feel cannon shells striking the aircraft. It didn't happen. Instead, the plane flying alongside reciprocated the wing waggle. The white star that proclaimed the fighter as belonging to the US Air Force could be clearly seen.

A few minutes later a matching fighter appeared on the other side. This one flew slightly ahead, leaving the first plane to drop to the rear.

"Looks like they're escorting us in." Secretly Garrison was relieved. Being shot down had been his major worry. "Pull up the undercarriage and shut the doors again."

They landed fifteen minutes later, not at Elmas, but the USAAF base at Decimomannu. An exhausted Garrison breathed a sigh of relief that he'd got them this far with no fatalities. Although he wouldn't admit it, flying the bomber in such unpleasant conditions had stretched him to his limits, but by the time he'd realised that the Junkers 88 didn't have dual controls it had been too late. A jeep came out onto the runway to lead the plane to a parking area well away from the ranks of B-26 bombers. A few moments later the pair of P-47 fighters touched down too.

Outside, a reception party of several US Army soldiers was waiting, rifles at the ready. Actor was first to descend the ladder. He had removed his SS jacket, but could do nothing about the boots and breeches he was wearing. He stood to one side, hands raised and away from his side. Next came a very green Goniff, still clutching his oilskin bag, followed by Chief, the side of his face bloodstained from its collision with the superstructure, Casino who was physically fine, just annoyed, Diesel and finally Garrison, also in shirtsleeves, grey breeches and boots. The soldiers looked somewhat perplexed - this motley bunch was not what they'd been expecting.

"Lieutenant Craig Garrison, US Army," offered the Lieutenant tiredly, as he too raised his hands in surrender.

Another jeep roared up at high speed, this time containing a driver and a Colonel in full uniform.

"At ease men," he instructed his 'firing squad'. Tentatively the soldiers lowered their weapons. "Garrison? We heard you might be on your way here. I'm Colonel Ashley, Twelfth Air Force. I see you've brought us a present. It's a Junkers 88 isn't it?" He looked with interest at the new aircraft. How the Lieutenant had managed to cram 6 people into the tiny cockpit he didn't know. He had to have flown it single-handed too, which was quite a feat.

"Yes sir." It was yes to both questions, but the Lieutenant figured one answer would do.

"I take it these are your men?"

Garrison nodded. A flurry of cold rain blew across the airfield, making him shiver. Now the adrenaline from the flight was dissipating he was getting cold standing there in just his shirtsleeves.

"Grab your things, we'll find somewhere to put you up."

****

**GG GG GG GG**

As it turned out they had landed just in time before the weather turned really bad. For the next four days there was wind and rain... and it was very cold. All bombing flights were stood down and the men were pretty much incarcerated in the large tent they'd been allocated.

As usual, when forced into such close proximity, tempers were getting pretty frayed. Chief was used to getting picked on by Casino but now the belligerence had spread to Diesel too. Eventually even his temper broke. The Mohawk had one skill over and above that of the other Indian - he'd done quite a lot of martial arts training with Hayter when the group first formed. Next thing Casino knew he was upside down in the mud outside of their tent, with a knee pressed into his neck and an arm twisted behind his back. Diesel whispered in his ear "Next time I'll break it."

Diesel stood up, letting Casino loose and knowing what was coming next. The safecracker rushed him again. Diesel slipped elegantly to one side and flipped the New Yorker once again. There was a slight 'pop' as the shoulder dislocated and Casino screamed in agony but this time stayed down.

Garrison rushed over. "Knock it off, both of you. Casino, stop baiting him. Diesel, one more trick like that and you're in the stockade. Actor, sort out that shoulder and get him cleaned up. We're going home."

"Thought there was another mission," risked Goniff. It couldn't be that easy. "Aren't we going to Italy?"

"Garrison shook his head. "This weather has put paid to it. They're sending a transport from Gibralter to collect us. It'll be here in a couple of hours." Garrison strode off angrily.

Diesel reached out a hand to help Casino to his feet, ignoring the mud that was plastering the other man. "Sorry, didn't mean to throw your shoulder out."

Casino's anger had dissipated as fast as it had arrived. He let himself be hauled upright then found a barrel to sit on whilst Actor did his worst.

"He's done that one before," explained the conman, as he manipulated the joint to the correct angle. He gave the necessary pull and watched with satisfaction as everything slid back into place. "It comes out easily."

This time Casino only groaned, then after some deep breaths to steady himself headed for the showers. Actor would strap it up once he was clean.

Diesel washed the mud off his hands then went back to the tent to stow his few bits and pieces into his kit bag. Chief was perched on his own camp bed, twirling an open switchblade through his fingers.

"You sure put Casino in his place. Where'd you learn that stuff?"

"Hayter had some Chinese guy come out and teach us. First time I've used it for real though. Feel bad about the shoulder, I just meant to teach him a lesson, not cripple him."

"Figure you could teach me a few moves?"

Diesel smiled and nodded slowly. "Happy to try."

****

**GG GG GG GG**

Although the weather opened up enough for bombing of Italy to resume, flying conditions were still poor for the Dakota C-47 transport to make it from Sardinia to Gibralter and then on to England.

Relations on the flight were somewhat strained. It had been a bad mission all round. True, the only significant injury had been Casino's shoulder and that hadn't been as a direct result of the mission. Goniff had accepted the offer of sedatives for the trip to alleviate the sickness, so was sleeping, much to everyone's relief. 

Somewhere over the Bay of Biscay, Casino slid into the seat alongside Diesel. The Indian looked up at him somewhat warily.

"It wasn't just me getting on your back, was it? It was about Rachelle too, wasn't it?

Diesel thought about it for a moment. "I guess so, partly."

"She wasn't yours though, was she? So why'd it matter?"

"She was part of our team, I guess I felt she needed protecting."

Diesel paused whilst he thought it through a little further. "I was wrong though, so I want to apologise."

Casino hadn't expected that so, for once, kept his mouth shut.

"The Rachelle we first met seemed just a chatty, flirty farm girl. Realise now that was just her way of making friends. Goniff does the same thing. Hadn't realised, I suppose, just how much she'd changed over the three months we were there... I guess you can learn a lot when you're around six special ops guys?"

"Six?"

"Six if you include Nicole. She was SOE and Rachelle spent more time with her than with anyone else. I guess it was a shock, what with Sapper and Magpie getting killed and Hayter interrogated, I don't know what made her do it, but it must have taken guts to throw away everything you've done in your life, jump on a train and do what she's doing down here now."

Casino was surprised, listening to the other man. Diesel was normally a man of few words, like Chief. He must have felt it important to come out with the speech he just had.

Diesel hadn't finished though. "I thought you'd taken advantage of her that last night in Toulouse, but now I'm thinking it might have been the other way about. She was scared and needing someone she could lean on and let down her guard with for just a few hours. We all need that sometimes."

The safecracker hadn't really thought much about her reasons, but what Diesel had just said struck a chord. "I hope she makes it through. That's one dame I'd like to meet again once it's all over."

"I doubt we'd recognise her. I think she's just at the start of what she's going to do. She won't be driving delivery trucks, that's for sure."

With that Casino had to agree. He got up and drifted back to his seat, thoughtfully.

Actor had moved to sit next to Garrison. "Was that a success or a failure?"

The Lieutenant gave a wry smile. "Probably a success. MAAF will enjoy having a good look at that plane and its equipment and the intel on the airfields should be of some use. Was it a good use of our time? I don't think so. Especially those wasted days sitting waiting to get into Italy."

Actor had to agree. "We were never likely to be able to get Forain out. Even if Gestapo HQ hadn't been hit that night we'd have struggled to free him without being shot and I'm sure he had already talked before we even got to Toulouse. It doesn't make sense - the network was already destroyed. Getting one man out wouldn't have helped."

"You're right. I can't work it out either. There's something we've missed."

"I don't suppose they'll ever tell us, Warden."

"I suspect you're right, Actor."

"What were we meant to be doing in Italy?"

"Blowing up a rail bridge. There was a train load of armaments the Allied Armies wanted stopped that were being sent to support the German forces in Ortona, on the east coast of Italy. Unfortunately the train got through whilst we were sat in the mud in Sardinia."

Actor didn't reply. He suspected this would be the way with more of their missions now. The job was changing, less about acquiring plans or extracting defecting generals, more about targeted sabotage of key targets. The war was moving away from his area of expertise, but he'd agreed to be in this for the long run. He would adapt if he had to.


	6. Chapter 6

The C-47 landed in Wiltshire late afternoon on December 23rd. It was a cold, grey day but for once not actually raining. Two black saloon cars were waiting nearby, both with drivers.

"Looks like we don't warrant being flown home this time," complained Casino, pulling his jacket tighter around his neck. He just wanted to get back to the Mansion now.

A man in a brown uniform detached himself from one of the cars and made his way over. "Garrison. good to see you back. Thought I'd save you the drive into London. We can debrief here tonight. Please bring your second with you if you can, I'd like to hear his thoughts too."

It was an acceptable evening for the team. Camp cots instead of proper beds, but they were used to that. At least there was plentiful hot water for showers and since they were being billeted in the officers quarters there wasn't a sign of spam in the meal they'd been offered. However, with no wine and no entertainment on offer everyone had hit the sack early. They might have done nothing except sit on their backsides in a plane for the last two days, but everyone felt exhausted.

**GG GG GG GG**

The two cars disgorged their passengers outside the mansion mid-afternoon the next day. Everyone was glad to be back at what they now thought of as 'home'. Sergeant Major Fletcher was there to greet them at the top of the steps. "Might I have a word with you Lieutenant?" he asked.

What now, thought Garrison. He nodded to the others to go on in, then led the non-com to his office. He didn't have time to shut the door before raised voices from the common room had him turning on his heel and rushing out of again.

" Blimey, it's a Christmas tree."

"Where did they come from?"

They? Garrison skidded to a halt in the doorway, braking himself with a hand on the doorframe. In front of him, where the suit of armour normally stood, there was indeed a Christmas tree. A woman, wearing land army uniform, with her shoulder-length fair hair covered in a scarf, was perched on top of a wooden step ladder, attaching ribbons to the top of the tree. Another woman, this time wearing a tweed skirt, was on her knees placing decorations on the lower part of the conifer. Both had looked round in astonishment as the five, now seven men had burst into the room.

"Sorry sir. I was trying to warn you."

"Who the hell are they and what are they doing on the base?"

"The one on the ladder is Saffie, she's Mrs Jackson's - your cook that is - niece. The one under the tree is her younger sister Amber. Saffie's twin Em is somewhere around too."

Saffie carefully backed down the ladder. "Em's out in the woods gathering greenery for the swags. She'll be back in a minute."

"Swag?" mouthed Casino at Goniff? He knew the word but suspected his definition of swag and what the girl was talking about weren't the same thing. Goniff shrugged. He had no idea either.

The land girl held out her hand for the Lieutenant to shake. Puzzled, he reciprocated, as he did so spotting the wedding ring on her left hand. He now knew who the girls were but not why they were here. "Em and I are two of the new land girls for the farm down the road. Molly Jackson, that's our aunt, thought it might be nice to smarten this place up for Christmas. Amber's got leave from the hospital, she's just visiting. Sorry if we gave you a bit of a shock, we thought we'd be done before you got back."

The girl had a nice voice, thought Garrison, not working class at all. He wondered why she was doing Land Army work. He'd have expected her to be with the WAAF or somewhere like Bletchley Park.

A scratching noise and some cursing heralded the arrival of a pile of holly and ivy, somewhere in the middle of which was Saffie's twin sister. "Next time you can get the bloody holly, I feel like a pincushion. Wh....," she stopped, suddenly spotting they had company.

"If I may...?" Actor stepped forward and removed a large spider from her hair. He took it to the window and dropped the arachnid outside. "Since the Lieutenant has failed to introduce us, I am Actor, this is Casino, Goniff, Diesel and Chief."

Chief and Amber caught each other's eye, with mutual appreciation. Hopefully her leave would be more than forty-eight hours, thought the young Indian. It wasn't often he got to meet someone other than the barmaids at the Doves or lonely wives looking for someone to warm their beds whilst their husbands were away at war. Neither were to his taste.

"If I might just have a word in private, sir?"

Garrison dragged his thoughts away from the women in the common room and back to his sergeant-major. For the second time he made his way back to the office.

"I wanted to let you know that I have asked Molly, Mrs Jackson that is, to be my wife and she has accepted. If you have no objections sir, we would like to marry as soon as possible."

Garrison was surprised, but also in some ways not surprised. Things had simply moved faster than he'd anticipated, but he had no objections, at least not if it meant they could keep their cook.

"And you don't need to worry about the twins and your men. Saffie's husband is a pilot on Spitfires, so she managed a transfer to be near him. Em came too to keep her company. They're staying in the bothy at the farm so they won't be a nuisance. Amber's in Molly's spare room, but she'll go back to the base hospital after Christmas."

"Is that all, Fletcher?" Garrison had the feeling it wasn't. He was right.

"Molly was wondering if we could resurrect the old walled kitchen garden. Mr McDonald has said he'll let his land girls help get it cleared if we'll share the produce with him. It'd be a shame not to do our bit, now wouldn't it?"

The Lieutenant knew he was being manipulated, but Fletcher was right. The ground was going to waste and providing he and the men didn't have to help in any way it shouldn't be a problem. "Very well, anything else?"

"Only that Molly said she couldn't manage a turkey for tomorrow, but she did get two stag cockerels, would they be acceptable?"

"They would be very acceptable indeed."

Returning to the common room, Garrison found his men had been drafted as willing helpers to the decorations team. He was astonished how festive it was looking, even without real tree decorations. Pine cones and walnut shells had been painted, ribbons made out of strips of brightly coloured rags were woven amongst the branches, a garland of evergreens studded with rose hips and holly berries spanned the fireplace. Chief and Amber were sitting together, cross-legged on the floor making a paper chain. For a man who didn't normally say very much, he was being quite animated.

Actor had retired to his chair with his pipe to watch proceedings, leaving Goniff and Casino to hang the last of the bits and pieces as directed by Em. Diesel had escaped to the kitchen where Molly was putting the final touches to supper before consigning it to the Aga.

"What's wrong love? Not feeling Christmassy?"

"Sorry, too many bad memories. I lost my sister at Christmas." He snagged a piece of carrot and took a bite.

Molly could tell it wasn't something he wanted to talk about. "Your young lady still in France?"

"Think so. Last I heard." There had been no word, as yet, from Hayter either. He hoped it wouldn't be too long. He couldn't rely on being invited along on every mission with Garrison unless Chiefy was hurt, and he wouldn't wish that on the other Indian.

In the common room, activities were winding down. The floor had been swept of the last of the leaves and berries and someone had lit a fire in the big fireplace. Em was chatting companionably with Actor, Casino and Goniff were playing poker. Diesel had wandered back into the common room, still feeling and looking a bit down.

"Penny for them," asked Saffie. "You missing your girl?"

Diesel wondered who'd told her. "Yeah. Where's your husband?" He'd spotted the ring.

"At the base. They're flying ops tonight. It doesn't stop, not even for Christmas."

"How come you married a Yank?"

"He volunteered. Came over here in 1940 as one of the Eagle Squadrons. We met at a dance a few days after he arrived. He was the handsomest man I'd ever seen - I didn't stand a chance." Saffie laughed. "Well, maybe with the exception of the young lad over there. I don't think Amber's taken her eyes off him since he got here." Saffie turned back to Diesel. "Have you guys got real names? It sounds odd to be calling everyone by nicknames."

"Yeah, we just don't use them very much. Chief's called Rainey, Actor's Vittorio, Casino's Charlie and the little Limey's Rodney. The Warden's Craig but we don't ever call him that."

"And you?"

Diesel smiled. "I'm Samuel."

"That's not an Indian name."

"Ma didn't give me one. With grandaddy it was usually something like 'he who headbutts rock'."

Now it was Saffie's turn to laugh. "We're all named after gemstones - I'm Sapphire, she's Emerald and at home there's a Ruby and a Topaz. My dad says he must have done something very wrong in his past life to have five girls and no boys."

Now it was Diesel's turn to smile.

"Will, Sergeant-Major Fletcher that is, says you're all cons? That you do special ops work for the Army. Is that right?" Saffie continued.

"Uh huh." Diesel expected the girl to snatch Amber away from Chief and run out screaming, but she didn't seem at all fussed.

"You're one too?"

"Yeah, but I'm not one of Garrison's. Most of my group got wiped out when a mission went belly-up back in November. My Captain's back in the US trying to straighten things out. I'm just marking time here waiting for him to come back."

"Well, better here than in the stockade or back inside," commented Saffie, philosophically. She looked at her watch. "We'd better get back, we've rather stretched our afternoon off. Nice to meet you Samuel. Come on Em or we'll miss our tea. See you tomorrow Amb." The two land girls made their way out, waving at Garrison as they passed his open office door. The room seemed much emptier without them.

"You not goin' too?" Chief had expected the younger, blonder sister to leave too.

"No, I'm staying with Auntie Molly tonight. I'll go back with her when she's done here. I'd better give her a hand." Reluctantly the young nurse climbed to her feet and headed for the kitchen.

**GG GG GG GG**

Christmas Day was cold and foggy, which kept bombers and fighters on both sides confined to base. Molly had done the boys proud with roast chicken and all the trimmings, followed by a jam roly poly for pudding (couldn't get fruit for a Christmas pudding for love nor money, she'd apologised). Having served the first course, leaving the men to dish out their own deserts, she then rushed back home for her own Christmas. She was looking forward to sharing it with her new fiancée, three nieces and Saffie's husband Peter. There would be cold chicken and a bit of ham for sandwiches, if the 'boys' wanted them, later.

"That were nice," said Goniff, pushing himself comfortably back from the table. "One of the best Christmases I've had."

Even Garrison had to admit it had been a good one, although it would have been better if he could have been with family back in the States.

At that point the telephone rang.

"It had to be too good to be true," said Casino wryly. After all, they'd been back two days.

Garrison came back into the dining room. "Italy's back on again. They've a new target for us. We leave in the morning."

**Postscript**

Forain (François Verdier) was tortured for 43 days before finally being executed in the Bouconne Forest, 30km west of Toulouse on 28th January 1944.

Despite the aircraft factories at Montaudran being on the list of sabotage targets for SOE agents in France, the attacks never took place. It was left to the Lancasters of 617 (Dambusters) squadron to achieve their destruction on the 5/6 April 1944. The nearby Monastery Saint Clare was badly damaged during the raid and one nun killed.


End file.
